

















































































































Class_ ELZ 5 


Book . C 5 4 3 4 ,. 

pou. 

CopyrigIit"N?_ c-:,- o p ; -r ^ . 


COPHUGKT DEPOSIT. 




















% 















PUTTING IT OYER 




















CREPT AROUND BEHIND HIM 




Page 143 



Putting It 


Over 


BY 


ELLERY H. CLARK 


Author of “Loaded Dice," “ The Carlelon Case ," “ Dick Randall " 
“ Reminiscences of an Athlete," “Camp at Sea Duck Cove" 
“ The Money Gods" etc., etc. 



1923 

THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 












Copyright, 1923 

By THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY 




\J 

Cl A 7 0 4 86 4 f) 


Printed in the United States of America 


THE JORDAN & MORE PRESS 
BOSTON 


/ 

JUN.14’23 




TO 

RICHARD GEORGE KILDUFF 

WHOSE LONG AND HONORABLE CAREER AT 
THE MASSACHUSETTS BAR 
REFUTES THE SLANDER ON THE PROFESSION 

THAT 

“a lawyer is a man who induces 

TWO OTHER MEN TO STRIP FOR A FIGHT, AND THEN 
RUNS AWAY WITH THEIR CLOTHES.” 




I 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I 

Business of the Utmost Importance 

3 

II 

A Sporting Proposition .... 

20 

III 

The Beginning of Trouble 

33 

IV 

Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Dis- 



covery . 

• 49 

V 

When a Hit Meant the Game . 

67 

VI 

Lovers’ Lane. 

79 

VII 

Jimmy Seeks Advice. 

93 

VIII 

The Proof of the Pudding 

106 

IX 

Men Have Their Exits .... 

128 

X 

And Their Entrances .... 

147 

XI 

A Tryout at the Park .... 

165 

XII 

A Question of Identity .... 

175 

XIII 

A Pinch Hitter. 

191 

XIV 

The Patient Improves . . 

207 

XV 

Another Man’s Shoes .... 

225 

XVI 

Penalties of Possessing a Dual 



Personality. 

246 

XVII 

The Battle for the Pennant . 

260 

XVIII 

The Final Reckoning .... 

280 


























PUTTING IT OYER 








PUTTING IT OVER 


CHAPTER I 

Business of the Utmost Importance 

The door of O’Reilly’s office stood open, and 
Jimmy Blake, strolling leisurely down the gym¬ 
nasium corridor, could see that the head coach 
was seated at his desk, gazing straight before him, 
as though deep in thought. 

“ I’ll bet five dollars,” reflected Jimmy, “ that 
he’s doping out some inside stuff for to-morrow’s 
game. And I’ll bet another five that we’re going 
to need it. There’s not much difference between 
their team and ours; it’s a toss-up which wins.” 

As he entered the room, O’Reilly glanced 
absent-mindedly up at him; then, recognizing 
his star pitcher and favorite pupil, gave him a 
cordial welcome. 

“ Hullo there, Jimmy,” he cried; “ you’re 
just the man I was looking for. I want to talk to 
you about that delayed steal play. Sit down a 
minute, and let’s work it out.” 


4 


Putting It Over 


“ Fd like to, first-rate, Mike/’ Jimmy answered, 
“ but I haven’t time now. I’ve got to catch the 
next train in town. That’s what I came over 
for — to tell you I shouldn’t be out for practice.” 

O’Reilly, famous “ big leaguer ” in his day, and 
now head coach of the college ball team, frowned 
portentously. 

“ Won’t be out for practice,” he repeated. 
“ And the last game of the season to-morrow. 
Say, what’s the matter with you, anyway? ” 

For answer, Jimmy fumbled in his pocket, and 
drawing forth a letter, handed it to the coach. 
O’Reilly read it through, once, twice and thrice, 
and with each perusal his frown deepened. At 
length he looked up, stroking his chin with his 
hand. 

“ Humph,” he observed; “ your uncle, eh? 
Well, I’m sorry, Jimmy; that’s too bad.” 

“ Yes,” Jimmy responded, though without any 
great display of feeling, “ it is too bad. But 
then,” he added, “ there’s no use making a bluff 
about it. I never laid eyes on him in my life, so 
it’s really just the same as if he’d been no rela¬ 
tion at all. Still,” he concluded, “ I suppose I’d 
better show up, as requested. It sounds impres¬ 
sive: that ‘ business of the utmost importance ’ 
part.” 


Business of the Utmost Importance 5 

“ Yes/’ O’Reilly agreed, “ it sure does. Looks 
to be the real goods. It’s a pity, though, you 
have to go this afternoon. I don’t feel any too 
easy about to-morrow’s game. Those boys are 
going to put up an awful fight.” 

There fell silence, O’Reilly’s thoughts revert¬ 
ing to the problem of the delayed steal, while 
Jimmy stood gazing pensively forth from the 
open window across the sunlit yard. Suddenly, 
with the air of a man who comes to a definite 
conclusion, he addressed the coach. 

“ Say, Mike,” he observed, “ I’ll give you one 
dandy little bet. I never saw this lawyer guy, 
and I never heard of him, but I’ll lay you one to 
two — five dollars against ten — that he’s over 
fifty years old, and has side-whiskers. Now what 
do you say to that? ” 

O’Reilly, after a moment of justifiable surprise, 
proceeded to divert his thoughts from the topic of 
delayed steals, and to focus them, instead, upon 
the alien subject of whiskers. His inclination was 
to regard Jimmy’s proposition favorably, but 
being a man of caution where money was con¬ 
cerned, he first, before committing himself, re-read 
the letter for the fourth time, as if seeking to dis¬ 
cover there some clue to his pupil’s willingness to 
bet. Finding none, he meditated for a moment, 


6 


Putting It Over 


then briefly observed, “ You’re on/’ and methodi¬ 
cally entered the wager in his note-book. After 
which, he handed the letter back to Jimmy, 
remarking, as he did so, “ I don’t doubt he’s an 
old man. You’re figuring, of course, that he knew 
your uncle, and you’ve probably doped that right. 
But I can’t see the rest of your bet at all. For 
Heaven’s sake, Jimmy, why whiskers? ” 

Blake’s answer was vague, and savored of the 
feminine. 

“ Oh, just because,” he rejoined. “ The whole 
thing, you know. I’ve seen it on the stage, a 
hundred times. He has to have ’em.” 

O’Reilly’s face showed a distinct failure to 
comprehend. 

“ Don’t get you, my son,” was his reply. 

Jimmy roused himself to further effort. 

“ Why, look here,” he explained, “ it’s as simple 
as ABC. A man’s uncle goes out west, and 
nothing is heard of him for long, long years. At 
last he dies. Then you know what happens, as 
well as I do.” 

“ Certainly, Jimmy,” the coach assented, with 
an almost suspicious ingenuousness; “ any one 
could guess that. They bury him.” 

Jimmy looked his disgust. 

“ Oh, shut up,” he retorted; “ don’t spring 


Business of the Utmost Importance 7 

any of that old stuff. No, the next thing is to find 
the missing heir, to tell him his uncle has left him 
a million dollars. It’s happened so often, there’s 
no use trying to prevent it. Any uncle who dies 
out west has to leave that much, just as a matter 
of pride. It’s a kind of occidendal avuncular 
precedent, as you might say.” 

O’Reilly grinned. 

“ Accidental avuncular fiddlesticks,” he re¬ 
torted. “ But I’m sure I hope it’s so, Jimmy; I 
always like to know some one I can borrow from. 
Do you happen to be the only pebble, or are there 
others, besides you? ” 

“ There’s one other,” Jimmy answered. “ My 
cousin Harold. As far as I know, he and I are 
all that are left of the Blake family. But wouldn’t 
I hate, though,” he added, “ to have to divvy 
up with Hal. I tell you, that would certainly 
hurt.” 

“ Humph,” commented O’Reilly; “ never knew 
you to be a hog before, Jimmy. Isn’t a half 
million enough? ” 

“ Oh, it wasn’t the money I was thinking 
about,” returned Jimmy. “ It was Harold. He’s 
a chap you like to pin the bug on, if you can. 
Though he’s not a bad sort, in his way; Sunday 
school teacher, and all that kind of thing. But 


8 


Putting It Over 


he’s awfully stuck on himself. Thinks little 
Harold is just about right. You know what I 
mean. You’ve seen plenty of ’em here.” 

“ You bet I have,” O’Reilly responded with 
feeling; “ but say, Jimmy, you’re wandering from 
the subject. Admitting the million dollars, and 
allowing that you’re the heir, you’re not answering 
my question. Give it to me straight, now. Why 
does the lawyer wear whiskers? ” 

Jimmy sighed. 

“ Well, don’t ask it,” he complained, “ as if it 
were an end man’s gag in a minstrel show. I’m 
disappointed in you, Mike; I thought you were 
better informed about such things. It’s the 
lawyer, of course, who has to break the news about 
the money. He finds the heir in the old garden, 
in front of the heroine’s house, and begins, ‘ My 
dear boy, Mr. So and So, your uncle, was my oldest 
friend.’ And after that, by easy stages, he pro¬ 
ceeds to put him wise to the million. There’s 
never any variation to it. And the lawyer is 
always elderly, with a rosy face and white side- 
whiskers. It can’t,” he added flippantly, “ be 
done without the make-up. And your ten dollars, 
old top, is gone, just as sure as a gun.” 

But O’Reilly did not appear to be in the least 
disturbed. 


Business of the Utmost Importance 9 

“ Now look here, Jimmy,” he responded, “ when 
it’s a case of outguessing a batter, I’ve always 
said, and I’ll say it again now, that there isn’t a 
college boy in this country who can touch you. 
With your speed, and your head, and that ‘spitter ’ 
of yours, you’ve got the makings of a real genuine 
big league pitcher. But when it comes to figuring 
whether or not a guy has whiskers, why that’s an 
altogether different proposition. They say you’ve 
made more crazy bets in four years than any chap 
who ever came to college, but it seems to me this 
whisker business is kind of crowding the limit 
pretty hard. I’d call it sort of overdoing the 
thing.” 

Jimmy grinned. 

“ You wait,” he returned. “ You say I’m good 
at outguessing batters. Well, that’s because I 
use my imagination on ’em. And that’s all I’m 
doing now. Why, I’d almost make the bet, Mike, 
just on the man’s name. Edgar J. Ellison. He 
just naturally has to have ’em. It’s a perfect 
cinch.” 

O’Reilly heaved a pitying sigh. 

“ My son,” he replied, “ you’re crazy as a loon, 
and you’re throwing away five dollars. But all 
jokes aside, I really hate to have you go this after¬ 
noon. There were a lot of things I wanted to talk 


10 


Putting It Over 


over with you. In the first place, I can’t be sure 
of Charley Craven. He’s as nervous as a witch. 
If he has one of his good days, he’ll be all right, 
but if he happens to get going bad, then he’ll 
be simply rotten, and I’ll have to yank him out, 
and put you in, even though it isn’t your turn. 
I’m sorry now I didn’t save you for this game, 
Jimmy, for it’s going to be a tough one. It’s got 
me worried, good and plenty.” 

“ Yes,” Jimmy admitted, “ they’re a hard 
hitting team, and they’re fast on the bases, too. 
But I really think,” he added comfortingly, “ that 
we ought to win. Charley was steaming ’em over 
yesterday, in practice. I doubt if you need me 
at all.” 

O’Reilly, however, did not seem to share his 
confidence. 

“ You can’t tell anything about it,” he answered. 
“ It’s easy to say who’ll start a game, but it’s 
mighty hard to guess who’ll finish it. Still, as you 
say, Charley might be able to turn the trick. 
I’ll know better when I’ve seen him work this 
afternoon. Stop in to-night, anyway, Jimmy, 
when you come back, and we’ll have our talk 
then.” 

“ All right,” Jimmy agreed. “ I won’t forget,” 
and with a sigh of regret at the thought of being 


Business of the Utmost Importance 11 

absent from practice, he forthwith reluctantly 
departed for town. 

Half way across the yard, he came face to face 
with Charley Craven, second string pitcher on the 
’Varsity team. His classmate greeted him heartily. 

“ Hullo, sport/’ he cried. “ Going the wrong 
way, aren’t you? ” 

“ Got to get in town,” Jimmy answered. “ Just 
stopped to tell Mike about it. And I told him 
something else, too. I said if you pitched to¬ 
morrow the way you did yesterday, you’d win 
that game in a walk.” 

“ Gee, but I hope so,” rejoined Craven. “ It’s 
our last chance to be on a championship team. 
And my girl’s come on, too, to see the game. So 
if I’m ever going to show anything, to-morrow’s 
the time. Say, Jimmy,” he added, “ did I tell you 
I was giving a tea for her this afternoon. I want 
you to be there, sure. She’s asked a lot about 
you. So drop in, when you get back.” 

Blake regarded him pensively. 

“ Charley,” he responded, “ I’d do ’most any¬ 
thing for you. You could have my last ounce of 
tobacco, my last nickel, just for the asking. But 
to go to a tea, to meet a lot of silly girls — that’s 
where I draw the line. What’s the use of having 
principles, if you don’t live up to ’em? ” 


12 


Putting It Over 


But Craven would not be denied. 

“ Well, I know you don’t like girls/’ he admitted, 
“ but Dorothy is different. She’s not the silly 
kind. And she’s crazy about base ball, too; she 
can talk it by the hour. She’s the best ever, 
Jimmy; you come.” 

“ Well, if I get back in time,” Jimmy tempo¬ 
rized, “ I will,” and with a glance at his watch, 
he hastened away toward the station. 

Two hours later, the elevator had propelled 
him upward, like a bullet, to the tenth floor of the 
Granger Building, and half way down the corridor 
he found himself pausing in front of Mr. Ellison’s 
door. To the casual caller, the neat black letter¬ 
ing on the glass would have possessed no special 
significance, but to Jimmy, intent upon winning 
his bet, “ 1025, Edgar J. Ellison, Private; Enter 
1026,” seemed essentially correct and dignified, 
and pleasantly corroborative of his theories regard¬ 
ing the appearance of Mr. Ellison, himself. And 
thus, as he opened the door, it was his wager which 
was still uppermost in his mind, but as he crossed 
the threshold all such thoughts were suddenly 
put to flight, for over by the window, leisurely 
reading the paper, sat a young man, well-groomed, 
immaculate, wearing a decorous black tie, and with 
a band of crepe on his left arm. And immediately 


Business of the Utmost Importance 13 

Jimmy’s brow clouded, for it needed no second 
glance to tell him that it was his particular aver¬ 
sion, his cousin, Harold Blake. 

The feeling of distaste seemed to be entirely 
mutual. One cousin did not rise; the other did 
not advance; and a constrained “ How are you, 
Jimmy,” and a stiff “ Hullo, Harold,” appeared, 
for the time being, to exhaust the conversational 
powers of both. 

After a moment’s hesitation, however, Jimmy 
decided that he might as well be civil, and accord¬ 
ingly drew a chair toward the window and sat 
down. 

“ Ellison in? ” he inquired. 

“ Yes,” Harold answered, “ he’ll see us shortly. 
He’s dictating some letters to his stenographer 
just now, but she said he’d be through in a very 
few minutes.” 

As he spoke, he surveyed his cousin’s light suit 
and cheery tie with a glance of disapproval. 

“ You don’t seem,” he chided, “ to have gone 
out of your way to show respect to our uncle’s 
memory.” 

But Jimmy ignored the reproof. 

“ Oh well,” he returned, “ what’s the sense of 
being a hypocrite. From all I hear, I guess Uncle 
Eb was a pretty good old sport, and I don’t believe, 


14 


Putting It Over 


if he knew about it, he’d care a hang whether 
we wore black or not. So what’s the odds? ” 

Harold looked pained, and his answer was 
characteristic of him. 

“ The custom,” he observed coldly, “ is well 
established,” and the conversation flagged again. 

At length, Jimmy could stand it no longer. 

“ Harold,” he questioned, “ any idea what’s 
doing? ” 

Harold sighed, as the grown person sighs at the 
prattle of an inquisitive child. 

“ Not the slightest,” he returned. 

Jimmy, meeting with such poor success, decided 
to approach the subject from a different angle. 

“ Know anything about Ellison? ” he persisted. 

And this time he did manage to elicit some 
positive information. 

“ A little,” Harold answered. “ He has the 
reputation of being a very conservative man. 
Not a jury lawyer, at all. Estates, trusts, and 
that sort of thing.” 

Jimmy’s face beamed. 

“ Exactly,” he murmured to himself. “ That 
would be it, of course. He never is a jury lawyer. 
Care of large estates — that’s his specialty. Say, 
Harold,” he queried aloud, “ did you ever see 
Ellison? ” 


Business of the Utmost Importance 15 

“ Never/’ Harold replied. 

Jimmy brightened still more. 

“ Then look here,” he suggested cheerfully, 
“ I’d like to give you a dandy bet. I’ll go you 
five dollars against ten—” 

But Harold, with a look of horror, interrupted 
him. 

“ I think you are aware,” he remarked stiffly, 
“ of my opinions in regard to wagering. There is 
no habit in the world which is more foolish, and 
at the same time more pernicious —” 

But now it was Jimmy’s turn to interrupt, for 
from sad experience he dreaded nothing in the 
world more than one of Harold’s sermons. 

“ All right,” he cried hastily; “ excuse me. I 
forgot. I won’t mention it again, believe me .” 

Once more quiet settled down over the office. 
From time to time, from the inner room, the mild, 
monotonous murmur of Mr. Ellison’s voice came 
to their ears. Otherwise, all was silence. Jimmy, 
staring out of the window at the sapphire sky, was 
reminded of the practice going on at the ball field, 
and instinctively his fingers wrapped themselves 
about the cover of an imaginary ball. He thought 
of his beloved “ spitter,” and sighed. Then his 
ideas reverted once more to his uncle, and sud¬ 
denly he burst forth impulsively, “ Oh, darn it 


16 


Putting It Over 


all, Harold, what’s the use of being so holy about 
it, anyway? What do you think? Did he leave 
us some coin, or didn’t he? ” 

Harold pursed up his lips; then answered, as 
gravely as if he not only meant what he said, but 
expected his cousin to believe him, as well, “ That 
is a matter, Jimmy, on which I have no opinion 
whatever. I have scarcely given it a thought. 
Although, from various anecdotes which my 
father told me, in his lifetime, I should imagine 
that while Uncle Ebenezer was a man of the most 
irregular habits, he was at the same time pos¬ 
sessed of rather remarkable acuteness. I under¬ 
stand that he made several fortunes, and then lost 
them again. But as to his circumstances, when 
he was taken from us, I know absolutely nothing.” 

Jimmy reflected. 

“ Well,” he rejoined at length, “ let’s hope he 
had great stacks of it. I wouldn’t care how much 
he left — I could use it, all right, every cent. 
It’s funny, you know, but I’m always broke. It 
seems to come natural to me. I’m broke now.” 

Harold raised his eyebrows. 

“ That’s unfortunate,” he dryly observed, and 
after a brief pause, he inquired, “ When you’re 
graduated, Jimmy, what do you mean to do for a 
living? ” 


Business of the Utmost Importance 17 

Jimmy shook his head helplessly. 

“ You can search me,” he answered. “ I 
haven’t the faintest idea. I wish I had.” 

“ What kind of a degree did you take? ” pur¬ 
sued Harold. “ Honors in any branch? ” 

“ Honorsf ” Jimmy echoed. “ Please don’t 
make me laugh. Why, I was lucky to pass at all. 
I thought I was going to flunk English, till we 
came to exposition, and then I wrote a thesis on 
the theory of the drop curve that pulled me 
through with a C for the course. I can pitch, 
but that —” he modestly added, “ is about all.” 

Harold perceived an opportunity for some 
sound moral teaching. 

“ I should think, Jimmy,” he observed, “ now 
that your college days are over, that you would 
sometimes wish you’d devoted more time to your 
books, and less to base ball. Of course, you have 
attained considerable notoriety in the sporting 
columns, but when it comes to choosing a career, I 
don’t suppose you will find that of much real help.” 

Jimmy looked thoughtful. 

“ Much real help,” he repeated. “ Financially, 
you mean? ” 

“ Exactly,” Harold assented. “ You’ve spent 
a great deal of time on something which, after all, 
is only a game.” 


18 


Putting It Over 


Jimmy stifled a smile. 

“No, Harold, you’re wrong there,” he an¬ 
swered. “ It’s a good deal more than a game; 
it’s a mania. The whole country is base ball mad. 
Why, just for example, I had an offer the other 
day from one of the big league teams to sign with 
them for the balance of the season. Twenty-five 
hundred was the figure. So I call that some help. 
Don’t you? ” 

Harold stared. 

“ Twenty-five hundred,” he echoed, and if he 
had not known that truth telling was one of his 
cousin’s characteristics, he would have been 
tempted to call him a liar upon the spot. As it 
was, he made haste to shift his ground. 

“ But professional base ball,” he exclaimed 
scornfully. “ What a way to earn it.” 

Jimmy considered. 

“ Well, I don’t know,” he rejoined. “ Nothing 
disgraceful about it that I can see. I might do it, 
at that. But then,” he added, “ if we’re left a lot 
of money, I don’t have to.” 

“ If ball playing is to be the alternative —” 
Harold began, but the sentence was cut short on 
his lips as the door of the inner office opened, and 
Mr. Ellison’s stenographer, emerging, came quickly 
toward them. 


Business of the Utmost Importance 19 

“ He will see you now,” she said. “ Will you 
please walk in,” but Jimmy scarcely heeded her, 
for his eyes were fixed on the man who stood wait¬ 
ing for them in the doorway, and all at once he 
drew a quick breath, half of wonder, half of relief, 
for Edgar J. Ellison was well on in years, slender, 
erect, ruddy of complexion, with snow-white hair, 
and to match it a really magnificent pair of white 
side-whiskers. Jimmy gazed, and gasped. 

It was not until some moments later, while 
greetings were being exchanged, and identities 
disclosed, that he managed to regain his com¬ 
posure, little dreaming how soon he was to lose 
it again, for Mr. Ellison, resuming his place at his 
desk, sat for some time without speaking, and then, 
glancing abruptly up at them, broke the silence 
in most unlooked-for fashion. 

“ Gentlemen,” he observed, “ your uncle, Eben- 
ezer Blake, was my oldest friend.” 


CHAPTER II 


A SPORTING PROPOSITION 

Jimmy, listening to Mr. Ellison’s words, was 
both amazed and enraptured at this second ful¬ 
fillment of his dreams. Occasionally, in a ball 
game, on one of those blissful days when he “ had 
everything,” and could deal with his adversaries 
almost as he chose, he had felt this same delightful 
sense of power, this joy in dominating the destinies 
of other men. But nothing had ever equalled the 
glory of the moment. 

“ It certainly seems,” he thought complacently 
to himself, “ to be my lucky afternoon. Now if 
I’m only right about the million, what a cinch that 
would be. Perhaps I’ve put it too low, though; I 
believe I’ll guess again.” 

But before he had an opportunity to revise his 
stimate, Mr. Ellison once more broke the silence. 

“ In our youth,” the lawyer went on, “ Ebenezer 
Blake and I were inseparable, and when he decided 
to seek his fortune in the west, we made a boyish 
vow that if either of us, in his lifetime, or from the 


A Sporting Proposition 


21 


grave, should make a demand upon the other, his 
request, if within the bounds of reason, should be 
promptly and punctiliously performed. So we 
parted, and although for some time we wrote each 
other regularly, at length other interests inter¬ 
vened, our letters grew gradually less and less 
frequent, and finally altogether ceased. He must, 
however, have kept track of me, and of my work, 
for while on my part no request was ever made, 
and while none was ever made by him, in his life¬ 
time, yet now, from the grave, he has called upon 
me to fulfill my oath.” 

He spoke with dignity, almost with solemnity, 
even, and Jimmy, who had listened with the 
liveliest curiosity, felt that his chance of inheriting 
a million dollars was growing rapidly less. For 
why, he reasoned, should the lawyer display such 
evident emotion, if the only task before him were 
the simple one of paying over money to the heirs. 
Yet he had small time for speculation, for Mr. 
Ellison, placing a packet of papers, neatly tied 
with tape, on the desk before him, now went on, 
“ The will of Ebenezer Blake, as presented for 
probate, is a very simple document indeed. The 
whole of his estate, real, personal, and mixed, is 
left, outright, to me.” 

At the words, Jimmy experienced a sudden 


22 


Putting It Over 


shock of disappointment, yet despite the downfall 
of his hopes, he felt, none the less, a dismal satis¬ 
faction in knowing that the holy Harold was also 
“ stung,” and he hastened to steal a glance at his 
cousin’s face. The youth who cared so little 
about money appeared paler than usual, and sat 
regarding the lawyer with an expression both 
unfriendly and vindictive. Suddenly he burst 
forth into vehement speech. 

“ Mr. Ellison,” he exclaimed, “ I consider that 
will an outrage.” 

The lawyer frowned, but his rejoinder showed 
that it was not Harold’s words, but merely the 
interruption itself, which annoyed him. 

“ One moment, please,” he testily replied. 
“ I quite agree with you that such a will, without 
further modification, undoubtedly would be an 
outrage. But as it happens, your uncle has chosen 
to qualify it, most materially, with the singular 
result that although it was bad enough before, yet 
in its present form I think I may fairly term it a 
greater outrage still.” 

Jimmy felt his head beginning to whirl. A 
devoted lover of “ mystery stories,” it seemed to 
him as though he were actually taking part in 
one, and this impression was strengthened as Mr. 
Ellison, after a brief pause, presently resumed, 


A Sporting Proposition 


23 


“ As I told you, Ebenezer Blake has made a 
demand upon me, and that demand is this; that 
I shall dispose of this property which he has left 
to me, in exact accordance with his express com¬ 
mands. These instructions are contained in 
another instrument, which no eyes except his own 
and mine have ever seen. And I could wish,” he 
concluded, with deep feeling, “ that your uncle 
had cut off his right hand before making such a 
perverse and wicked distribution of his wealth.” 

For the first time, Jimmy felt that he could 
understand the lawyer’s indignation. 

“ No wonder,” he reflected, “ that the old 
gentleman is a trifle jarred. What’s the use of 
having money left you, if you’ve got to pass it 
along to someone else. And from the way he 
acts, I’ll bet it’s a fool thing, like a home for aged 
cats, or something of that sort. Anyway, I don’t 
see where Harold and I are going to fit at all.” 

But his guesses seemed to be falling wider and 
wider of the mark, for now, like a bolt from the sky, 
Mr. Ellison was to make another, and still more 
startling, announcement. 

“ My first duty,” he continued, speaking slowly 
and with emphasis, “ is this. To-day, in this 
office, I am required to give to each of you the sum 
of ten thousand dollars in cash.” 


24 


Putting It Over 


As he spoke, he reached into a pigeonhole in his 
desk, and drew forth two small bundles of notes. 
From where he sat, Jimmy could distinguish the 
“ 1000 ” in the corner of each topmost bill, and 
gazed upon the sight, wide-eyed and well content. 
From his visions of boundless wealth, it was, to be 
sure, something of a descent to plain, everyday 
life; but since there was no million with which to 
compare it, ten thousand dollars, by itself, seemed 
a most satisfying sum. 

Yet the day was destined to be one of continual 
surprises, for Mr. Ellison, who had made no 
immediate move toward handing over the money, 
now went on, “ This ten thousand dollars, I 
regret to say, is not a gift outright, but one made 
upon certain conditions, which I must now, 
though most unwillingly, explain/’ 

By this time, it seemed to Jimmy as though his 
nerves had nearly reached the breaking point. 
To have had visions of being a millionaire; then 
to find himself apparently a pauper; next to 
believe himself the inheritor of ten thousand 
dollars — to see it actually lying there on the desk 
before him — and now to hear this further dis¬ 
heartening talk of “ conditions ” — it was too 
much for human endurance. 

Harold, also, was evidently in a similar state of 


A Sporting Proposition 


25 


mind, for he now suddenly exclaimed, “ Couldn’t 
we come straight to the point, sir, and listen to all 
these explanations afterward? ” 

But the lawyer answered him, roundly enough, 
“ My dear young man, your uncle gave much time 
and thought to the drawing up of this most unusual 
will. It is to your advantage to have its provisions 
made absolutely clear. And I am explaining them, 
not at all for my own pleasure, as you seem to 
imagine, but wholly in the interests of yourself 
and your cousin. Do I make myself plain? ” 

Harold flushed scarlet. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” he murmured, and 
Mr. Ellison, accepting the apology with a nod, 
went on, more calmly, “ One point in your uncle’s 
character needs to be explained. From his boy¬ 
hood, he had an almost abnormal love for contests 
of every sort, kind and description. A foot race, 
a boxing match, a horse trot — these things were 
as the very breath of life to him. And as he grew 
older, and to some extent abandoned these sports 
of his youth, he concentrated this love of competi¬ 
tion upon the making of money, not in the spirit 
of the miser, but rather as a man who esteems 
gold chiefly as an evidence of his shrewdness and 
ability to succeed. Furthermore, according to 
his own statements, in the papers left with me, he 


26 


Putting It Over 


admits that as he advanced in years, he gradually 
lost all faith in everything pertaining to religion, 
so that in consequence this interest in the accu¬ 
mulation of money came to play an altogether 
disproportionate part in his life. To pit his judg¬ 
ment against that of other men, with gold for the 
stake — for thirty years and more, that was his 
only aim. And now, with this knowledge of your 
uncle, I think you are both in a position to under¬ 
stand the singular provisions of his most repre¬ 
hensible will.” 

At the conclusion of this lengthy speech, Mr. 
Ellison paused for breath, and Jimmy, who had 
listened intently to every word, found himself 
more perplexed than ever. In what mysterious 
way, he wondered, could Ebenezer Blake have 
disposed of his property. His guess concerning 
the home for aged cats now appeared to have been 
a singularly poor one; more probably, it was some 
jockey club or society for the promotion of prize 
fighting which was to benefit through his uncle’s 
sporting proclivities. But with the lawyer’s next 
words, Jimmy’s meditations abruptly ceased, for 
the critical moment in the interview had clearly 
arrived. 

Edgar J. Ellison laid his hand upon the little 
heap of bills. 


A Sporting Proposition 27 

“ This money/’ he said slowly, “ is to be en¬ 
trusted to each of you, for the space of three 
months from to-day. Within that period, you are 
free to deal with it as you see fit, with the sole idea 
of increasing it to as large a sum as possible. At 
the expiration of three months — to be exact, 
upon the twenty-seventh of next September, at 
twelve o’clock, noon — the contestant who can 
show me the largest total is declared the winner, 
and thereupon not only becomes the absolute 
owner of his own share, but also takes the loser’s 
money, in addition to his own.” 

The effect of the lawyer’s words upon Jimmy 
was little short of electrical. The secret, then, 
was out at last; here was a struggle with a ven¬ 
geance; and at once, his antipathy for his cousin 
seemed to redouble in force, and he could feel his 
sporting blood begin to surge and bubble in his 
veins. In another moment, he became aware of 
Harold’s voice, speaking in a tone of politeness 
which formed a striking contrast to his previous 
manner. 

“ I should like to ask, sir,” he observed, 
“ whether there are any limitations as to the 
manner in which the money shall be used? ” 

Mr. Ellison’s face grew stern. 

“ I regret to say,” he answered, “ that there 


28 


Putting It Over 


are, practically speaking, no limitations of any 
kind whatever. Your uncle was a man who had 
traveled in all parts of the world, and who had 
seen life from so many different angles that his 
own views regarding it were about as broad as 
could well be imagined. He has made his inten¬ 
tions perfectly clear. They are, to give both of 
you a free hand, and to leave you to work out your 
salvation for yourselves. He has imposed only 
one condition on you regarding the use of the 
money, and that condition is characteristic of the 
man, for though Ebenezer Blake had many faults, 
he possessed at least one sterling virtue. He was 
as honorable as the day, upright in all his dealings, 
and no man ever had reason to question his word. 
Therefore, he has made this one provision; how¬ 
ever the money may be used, it must be in a 
manner absolutely clean and above suspicion. 
On this point, he has done me the honor to make 
me the sole judge; my decision is to be final, and 
not open to appeal. But that, I imagine,” he 
added kindly, “ is scarcely a matter over which 
we are likely to disagree. And with that one 
exception, you have, as I have told you, absolutely 
a free hand.” 

Harold’s expression was one both of worry 
and alarm. “ But Mr. Ellison,” he insisted, “ we 


A Sporting Proposition 


29 


must proceed, of course, along legitimate business 
lines. My uncle, for example, could never have 
intended that we were to use the money in any 
kind of speculation — ” 

Mr. Ellison interrupted him. “ There, my dear 
sir/’ he broke in, “ is just where you are wrong. 
Gambling is not only permitted, but is even 
expressly sanctioned, and I might almost say 
encouraged, for it was in this manner, I regret to 
say, that Ebenezer Blake spent a large portion of 
his time. I can only repeat that you are allowed 
absolute liberty in your management of this 
money, so long as you do not use it dishonorably. 
You may invest it, if you so desire, in a Govern¬ 
ment Bond, but for anything that I can perceive 
to the contrary, you may also, if you wish, stake 
the whole sum on the turn of a card, and still be 
acting in accordance with the provisions of the will. 
Whatever else you may say of it, it is certainly, 
as your uncle himself terms it, in his letters to me, 
a ‘ sporting proposition.’ Nobody, I think, would 
deny the ingenuity of the scheme; it does credit 
to your uncle’s head, if not to his heart.” 

While he was speaking, the color had gradually 
been fading from Harold’s face. Unwittingly, the 
deceased Ebenezer had contrived to touch one of 
his nephews in his tenderest spot. 


30 


Putting It Over 


“ Gambling permitted! ” cried the horrified 
Harold. “ Why, this is disgraceful/’ and as the 
lawyer made no move to comfort him, he repeated 
several times, “ Disgraceful, Mr. Ellison; dis¬ 
graceful/’ and finally, as though he could utter 
no more scathing denunciation of the whole affair, 
he concluded, in helpless anti-climax, “ Why, I 
never heard of such a thing in all my life.” 

It was very evident that Mr. Ellison shared his 
views. 

“ It is disgraceful,” he agreed, “ and the most 
unfortunate part of the whole affair is this. You 
two young men are the only remaining representa¬ 
tives of the Blake family. You sit here, to-day, 
in this office, related by blood, and doubtless with 
the warmest esteem and affection for each other—” 

At this point in his harangue, Jimmy could not 
restrain a sickly grin, but Harold, as though sanc¬ 
tioning the lawyer’s supposition, inclined his head 
with an air of befitting dignity, and Mr. Ellison 
continued, “ But if rivalry like this does not leave 
some feelings of bitterness behind it, I think you 
may consider yourselves almost more than human. 
The whole matter is regrettable, and unless I am 
greatly mistaken, is bound to end badly, but this 
particular aspect of it is the one which I chiefly 
deplore. The responsibility, however, is your 



A Sporting Proposition 


31 


uncle’s, and not mine. All I can do is to serve to 
the best of my ability, and endeavor to act with 
absolute fairness toward both of you.” 

Harold’s look of perplexity had not altered. 
“ Are there further conditions? ” he asked. 

“ A few minor ones,” the lawyer answered. 
“ I shall give you both a copy of all the documents 
in the case, to peruse at your leisure, but perhaps 
I should tell you now that for one thing you are 
required to maintain absolute secrecy as to what 
is going on. You may consult people, in a general 
way, as to methods of making money, but the fact 
of the competition must be kept wholly to your¬ 
selves, unless, during the period of this three 
months, either one of you should become married 
or engaged. In such an event, you would be at 
liberty to confide everything to your wife, or to 
your fiancee, as the case might be. There is also 
a further provision that when you are accounting 
to me at the end of the three months, your word 
of honor as to what you have accomplished is to 
be held sufficient, without receipts or vouchers 
of any sort. ‘ The Blake blood,’ your uncle has 
written, ‘ is good blood. I can trust my nephews 
to play fair.’ And now,” the lawyer added, glanc¬ 
ing at his watch, “ I must leave you, as I am due 
at a directors’ meeting in exactly ten minutes. 


32 


Putting It Over 


Here are the papers, and the money,” and he 
extended a hand to each. 

While Jimmy was depositing the packet, with 
the utmost care, in an inner pocket, he became 
aware that Mr. Ellison, who had risen to his feet, 
had begun clearing his throat in impressive and 
significant fashion. 

“ This whole affair, gentlemen/’ he observed, 
“ is so astounding — so entirely out of the ordi¬ 
nary — that I have purposely tried to explain it 
to you as slowly and as gradually as I could. It 
now becomes my duty to mention to you one 
other provision of the will. And that is this. 
The successful competitor not only, as I have 
already explained to you, wins his own share and 
the loser’s as well, but in addition to this, he also 
becomes entitled to the whole of the remainder 
of the estate. And that estate, speaking most 
conservatively —” 

He came to a dramatic pause. Jimmy stood 
spellbound, his eyes fixed upon the lawyer’s lips. 

“ Is valued,” Mr. Ellison slowly continued, 
“ taking everything at the lowest possible figures, 
at something over THREE MILLIONS OF 
DOLLARS.” 


CHAPTER III 


THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 

Side by side, the cousins walked through the 
office, and out into the corridor. One thought 
was uppermost in Jimmy’s mind. In the face of 
this astounding news, would Harold’s attitude 
toward him be hostile or otherwise. Would he be 
outwardly polite, or would he stride away, without 
a word, as if to make it clear that it was to be war 
to the knife between them. 

His question was soon answered, for hardly had 
the office door closed behind them when, like a 
flash, Harold turned, and with a gesture of uncon¬ 
trollable emotion, gripped his cousin by the arm. 
Yet there was no sign of enmity in his manner, 
but on the contrary, a friendliness almost sup¬ 
plicating. 

“ Jimmy,” he cried hoarsely. “ Three million 
dollars! Do you see your chance? ” 

Upon Jimmy’s overwrought nerves, the conven¬ 
tional and apparently meaningless remark struck 
jarringly. He shook himself free from Harold’s 


34 


Putting It Over 


grasp, retorting, none too amiably, “ Sure I do. 
What do you think I am? A darn fool? ” 

But Harold did not seem to take offence. 

“ Then you’ll do it? ” he cried. 

He was visibly trembling, and his face was as 
white as death. 

“ It’s running a risk,” he continued wildly. 
“ It may mean losing everything. But it’s worth 
it. It means independence for life. I’m game 
for it, Jimmy, if you are.” 

What with the excitement, and the heat of the 
summer afternoon, the perspiration was standing 
out in beads upon his brow, and as he spoke, he 
thrust a shaking hand into his pocket, in a quest 
for his handkerchief. But to Jimmy, who let no 
day expire without “ matching ” a dozen times 
or more, the gesture had but one meaning, and in 
the light of Harold’s desperate words and frenzied 
manner, he naturally enough concluded that his 
cousin, carried away with excitement, was now 
proposing to determine the possession of the 
fortune, once and for all, and was already hunting 
in his pockets for a coin. 

Completely staggered, yet filled with admira¬ 
tion for such a display of courage, Jimmy, seized 
with momentary madness, began a search for his 
lucky quarter; then, a vestige of common sense 


The Beginning of Trouble 


35 


coming to his aid, he suddenly pulled up short. 

“ No, no/’ he cried. “ I won’t do it, Harold. 
I’ll be damned if I will. That’s going it too strong. 
But I’ll certainly admit,” he generously conceded, 
“ that you have more nerve than any chap I ever 
saw. I’ve heard of two fellows who matched for a 
thousand. But three millions! Gee whiz, that’s 
some match! ” 

By this time, Harold had extracted his handker¬ 
chief, and was mopping his dripping forehead. 
He gazed at his cousin, open-eyed and open- 
mouthed. 

“ Wh — wh — what are you talking about? ” 
he demanded. 

At which Jimmy, surveying the handkerchief, 
and realizing his mistake, instantly became 
doubled up with hysterical laughter. 

“ Didn’t — didn’t you want to match me for 
the pot? ” he gasped, when he could speak. 

Harold turned, if possible, a shade paler than 
before, and so great was his emotion that for the 
first time in his life, Jimmy heard his model 
relative swear. 

“ My God, no,” he cried; “ of course I didn’t. 
I thought you knew —” 

They stood staring at one another. A leisurely 
office boy, musically inclined, came strolling down 



36 


Putting It Over 


the corridor, whistling piercingly, and shockingly 
off the key. Around the corner of the hall, a door 
banged suddenly, and at the sound Harold, like 
some guilty conspirator, jumped a foot into the 
air. 

“ Jimmy,” he cried, “ this is no place for us. 
Come around to the club, where we can talk. 
We’ll have,” he concluded generously, as though 
desirous of making himself as agreeable as pos¬ 
sible, “a drink, Jimmy — lemonade, or some¬ 
thing; I think it would do us both good.” 

For once in his life, Jimmy found his views in 
complete accord with those of his cousin. 

“ Harold,” he agreed, “ you ought to have been 
a doctor,” and forthwith they adjourned to the 
club, each so taken up with his own thoughts that 
no words, beyond the merest commonplaces, were 
uttered, until at length they found themselves 
facing each other across the table, their empty 
glasses between them. And at this point, Harold 
resumed the conversation where it had been 
broken off. 

“ Jimmy,” he began, “ I don’t think you under¬ 
stood me, over there at Ellison’s.” 

Jimmy, feeling much more amiable after his 
drink, hastened to assent. 

“ No thinking about it,” he answered. “ I 


The Beginning of Trouble 


37 


know blamed well I didn’t. And I don’t get you 
any better now than I did then. What are you 
driving at, anyway? ” 

From Harold’s knitted brows, one might have 
drawn the inference that he was somewhat at a 
loss as to the best manner in which to proceed. 

“ Jimmy,” he essayed cautiously at length, “ I 
am not in any way referring to the present situa¬ 
tion, and I must warn you to be careful that you 
do not misunderstand me, but I wish very much 
to tell you about a foot race which I once happened 
to witness.” 

Jimmy, at this point, again began to wonder 
whether the afternoon’s excitement had not tempo¬ 
rarily unsettled his cousin’s brain, but Harold’s 
expression was quite normal, and he appeared to 
be singularly intent upon what he was saying. 

“ The race, Jimmy,” he went on, “ was between 
two professional runners, who were competing for 
a purse. Before the contest, they made an agree¬ 
ment between themselves, and when the match 
took place, instead of forcing each other to the 
limit, they traveled at reasonable speed, and 
crossed the finish line, shoulder to shoulder, at 
exactly the same instant of time. The purse, 
Jimmy —” he added meaningly, “ was divided. 
Each of the runners took half.” 


38 


Putting It Over 


There was a moment’s silence. Jimmy’s brain 
was none too subtle, but the point of the story 
stood out too glaringly to be missed, and he could 
not but admire his cousin’s ingenuity. 

“ Well, for the love of Mike! ” he exclaimed. 
“ I’d never have thought of that in a thousand 
years. To split the coin. Well, that’s certainly 
a scheme. A million and a half apiece.” 

“ Of course,” Harold proceeded, still clinging 
to the parable of the runners, and taking care 
neither to affirm nor to deny that Jimmy was 
placing the proper construction on his words, 
“ these men whom I speak of took a great risk. 
If it could have been proved that they were in 
collusion, the management, instead of dividing 
the purse between them, might have withheld it 
altogether, on the ground of fraud, and instead of 
presenting it to the runners, might well have kept 
it for themselves. That is a point, Jimmy, that I 
think we should consider.” 

At these words, Jimmy’s respect for his cousin’s 
sagacity was still further increased, yet as he 
reflected upon this aspect of the question, it gave 
him small concern. 

“ There’s one thing, Harold,” he remarked, 
“ that’s sure. And that is that Ellison is honest. 
He’s not looking for a chance to cheat us out of the 


The Beginning of Trouble 


39 


money, because if he were, all he had to do, in the 
first place, was to burn the other papers, and keep 
nothing but the will. He needn’t have bothered 
with us at all. So he’s straight, all right; I don’t 
think there’s any doubt of it.” 

“ Yes,” Harold answered, “ I agree with you. 
And it’s equally plain that he’s tremendously 
opposed to any kind of speculation. So if we 
could present our accounts, at the end of three 
months, showing that we had both invested our 
money in Government Bonds, and that our final 
balance, down to the very last cent, was precisely 
the same, I dare say no one would be better pleased 
with the result than Mr. Ellison himself. I doubt 
very much whether he would raise the question of 
collusion at all. So it seems to me, Jimmy, as 
though our course were fairly clear. All we have 
to do is to trust each other, and then we’ll both 
be winners.” 

With his closing words, he essayed a smile of 
good will, and somehow that smile aroused fresh 
doubts in Jimmy’s mind. Harold was so clever, 
so resourceful, that the question of his keeping 
faith seemed rather a troublesome one. And thus 
both sat silent, Harold gazing at his cousin, Jimmy 
frowning at the floor, each trying to adjust himself 
to the latest phase of this most singular affair. 


40 


Putting It Over 


Gradually, however, as Jimmy’s reflections 
began to take definite shape, he found himself, 
for various reasons, less and less inclined to like 
his cousin’s plan. So that presently he smote the 
table gently with his clenched fist. 

“ Harold, old top,” he observed, “ it’s no go. 
We can’t do it.” 

At once, Harold’s face clouded. 

“ What do you say that for? ” he demanded. 

“ Because,” Jimmy rejoined, “ it wasn’t what 
the old man meant us to do. I’m not a bit relig¬ 
ious, you know, but here’s what I think about it. 
Suppose there is a heaven, or some kind of a place 
like that, and supposing Uncle Ebenezer has 
managed, as you might say, to get admitted to the 
grounds, and is sitting there, in a nice reserved 
seat in the grandstand, just waiting to see us start 
a red hot scrap over his coin. Now then, if we 
make a frame-up of the whole business, and the 
scrap turns out to be nothing but a fake, how is he 
going to like it? Why, he’d throw a fit; he’d come 
back and haunt us. And you couldn’t blame him, 
either, because when you come to think of it, it 
would certainly be a low down trick. No, as far 
as I’m concerned, Hal, your scheme’s no good. I 
guess we’ll have to call it off, and fight it out, the 
way he meant us to.” 


The Beginning of Trouble 


41 


Harold sighed. 

“ Jimmy/’ he rejoined, “ this is most annoying. 
And I tell you, right now,” he added, raising a 
threatening forefinger, “ that if you won’t do as 
I say, it will be the biggest mistake of your life. 
Because, if you insist on regarding this as a contest 
between us, there will be only one result, and that 
will be that I shall win. You may consider that, 
Jimmy, as settled; there’s no question about it 
at all.” 

Jimmy immediately flared up. 

“ Oh, is that so? ” he retorted. “ I may con¬ 
sider it as settled? Well, I must say you’ve got an 
awful nerve.” 

Harold, however, was ready with his answer. 

“ It isn’t a case of nerve,” he responded. “ It’s 
a matter of common sense. Look at it this way, 
Jimmy. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that 
the whole fortune was to go to the man who could 
pitch the best game of ball. There wouldn’t be 
any question then, would there? You would be 
the winner, beyond a doubt.” 

“ Yes,” Jimmy acknowledged, “ I suppose I 
should.” 

“ And why? ” Harold persisted. “ Because 
for the last four years you’ve been spending your 
time learning how to pitch. Now just turn the 


42 


Putting It Over 


case around. What have I been doing in those 
four years, while you’ve been playing ball? I’ve 
been studying money. How to make it. How to 
get it. How to keep it. And since this contest is 
over a matter of money, it stands to reason that I 
shall win. I’m perfectly unprejudiced about it, 
Jimmy, but I’m simply telling you the truth.” 

Over this reply, Jimmy pondered earnestly, but 
his cogitations brought him small comfort, for 
unhappily for his peace of mind, he was compelled 
to admit that his cousin’s argument seemed to be 
a sound one, so that a fitting rejoinder was most 
difficult to find. 

“ Well then,” he at length responded, none too 
amiably, “ if you’re so sure of winning, what makes 
you so anxious to divide? ” 

“ Because,” Harold promptly answered, “ if 
we make a contest of it, it means a tremendous 
strain for both of us. It means feverish days and 
restless nights; it’s an ordeal that I don’t want to 
be called upon to undergo. Did you ever read 
a story, Jimmy, about the two men who fought a 
duel in the dark? ” 

Jimmy shook his head. 

“ No,” he answered, “ I don’t read much. It 
spoils your batting eye. What’s the story? ” 

“ Oh, it’s of no consequence,” Harold responded. 


The Beginning of Trouble 


43 


“ I only meant that it was precisely like our case. 
We won’t either of us be able to tell what the other 
fellow is doing, and it will be enough to drive us 
crazy, before we’re through. Come now, Jimmy,” 
he added coaxingly, “ let’s try my scheme, and 
play square with each other, all the way through. 
Perhaps,” he concluded, with a sudden flash of 
inspiration, “ it was just what Uncle Ebenezer 
hoped we’d do, when he made his will. Very 
likely our dividing the money would give him 
greater pleasure than anything else in the world.” 

Somehow, this ingenious conjecture did not seem 
to strike Jimmy as very probable, yet the whole 
matter was undeniably a hard one to decide. On 
the one hand, wholly apart from his desire to 
show a proper respect for his uncle’s wishes, the 
same love of a fight which had distinguished the 
elder Blake, in his boyhood, now impelled Jimmy 
to adopt the bolder course, and gamble for all or 
nothing. And yet — there was a million and a 
half of dollars, to be secured without an effort. 
Irritatingly, at this particular moment, for he had 
always hated proverbs, as savoring of preaching 
and good advice, he could not keep his mind from 
dwelling on the time-honored maxim that half a 
loaf is infinitely to be preferred to no bread at all. 

And now, while he sat weighing the problem in 


44 


Putting It Over 


his mind, Harold, becoming over anxious, made 
the common mistake of refusing to let well enough 
alone, and thinking that he saw his cousin waver¬ 
ing, repeated solicitously, “ Better call it a bargain, 
Jimmy, because there’s no sense in throwing away 
a fortune. And it’s just as I’ve told you; this is a 
question of making money, and you haven’t 
a chance in the world.” 

His words served, indeed, to turn the scale, but 
not at all in the sense that he had anticipated, for 
Jimmy, like a child who does a thing solely because 
he is told not to, suddenly felt a hot dislike for thus 
being patronized, preached at, and talked down 
to. Harold’s face, with its expression of smug 
self-satisfaction, roused him to anger. 

“ You go straight to the devil,” he snapped. 
“ I won’t do it, and that settles it. And perhaps,” 
he added, somewhat vauntingly, “ you’ll find I’m 
not quite such an easy mark as you think I am.” 

The color returned to Harold’s face, in the shape 
of a bright red spot in either cheek. 

“ Very well,” he responded icily. “ I have 
surely done my best. Gone out of my way to tell 
you my plan — invited you here — entertained 
you —” 

Jimmy gave vent to a snort of disgust. 

“ Oh, if you mean your darned old drink —” 


The Beginning of Trouble 


45 


he cried, and with a really magnificent gesture, he 
drew a coin from his pocket, flung it on the table, 
and an instant later had regained the street, and 
was striding hastily away in the direction of the 
First National Bank, where, after due deliberation 
upon the way, he first deposited his money, and 
then cashed a check for a thousand dollars, in case 
some pressing need for making use of it should 
unexpectedly arise. And with these preliminaries 
disposed of, he once again turned his steps toward 
home. 

Harold, thus left alone, made no effort at pur¬ 
suit, but with furrowed brow and lips tightly 
compressed, gave himself up to earnest meditation. 
Ordinarily, on principle, a man of peace, he was 
now so thoroughly incensed that if Jimmy had 
suddenly reappeared, and begged leave to recon¬ 
sider his refusal, Harold would have paid no heed 
to his entreaties. To best his cousin — that was 
now his one desire — and since he was far from 
being a fool, he determined, as the surest method 
of achieving success, to put himself in Jimmy’s 
place, and then try to imagine how his adversary 
would reason, and how he would be most likely 
to act. 

As he considered the problem, a memory of the 
previous summer came vividly to mind. Both 


46 


Putting It Over 


cousins had been staying at a hotel in the moun¬ 
tains, and both had been competitors in the annual 
tennis tournament. The game, with Jimmy, was 
a pastime, to be played occasionally, when nothing 
better sufficed. With Harold, on the contrary, it 
was a passion — his one athletic accomplishment 
— and thus, when each had won his way through 
his half of the draw, and they had met in the finals, 
the result had been a hard fought contest, which 
had gone the full five sets. Jimmy, playing a 
brilliant and dashing game, had been by far the 
more spectacular of the two, but Harold, husband¬ 
ing his strength, had maintained a steady, even 
pace throughout, striving for safety on every 
stroke, with the result that in the end Jimmy’s 
“ kills ” and “ aces ” were more than offset by his 
“ nets ” and “ outs,” so that Harold, calling upon 
his last ounce of surplus energy, had just managed 
to emerge a victor, by the score of three sets to 
two. 

This contest seemed to Harold to furnish a fair 
basis of calculation for the present struggle. In 
just what manner Jimmy would use his money, he 
could only surmise, but he felt certain that his 
cousin would not err on the side of conservatism, 
and that sooner or later he would do something 
reckless with his share of the funds. 


The Beginning of Trouble 


47 


“ I’ll go slow, and let him beat himself/’ was his 
final judgment. “ If he goes into some kind of a 
gamble, and loses, then he’ll probably double the 
stakes to get square, and drop everything. And if 
he gambles and wins, then he’ll think he can’t 
lose, and he’ll go on playing until he finally comes 
a cropper. So I ought to lick him, either way.” 

Yet even with his course of action thus deter¬ 
mined upon, he felt far from happy at the prospect 
before him. Fortune, he reflected, was popu¬ 
larly supposed to favor the bold, and a vision 
of Jimmy crossing the ocean, breaking the bank 
at Monte Carlo, and returning to claim the three 
millions, persistently haunted him. And as he 
thus sat meditating on the various hazards of the 
conflict, a great and bitter resentment against 
his Uncle Ebenezer gradually took possession of 
his mind. To have left the fortune to be equally 
divided between himself and Jimmy — that, he 
felt, would have been the proper thing to do. But 
to allow the disposal of such a sum of money to 
depend on blind luck, on a random cast of the dice, 
or a casual whirl of the wheel, seemed incredibly 
and monstrously unfair. 

One thing, however, was clear. There was no 
use in wasting time in vain regrets. And some¬ 
thing, indeed, of Ebenezer Blake’s sporting spirit 


48 


Putting It Over 


must have slumbered, long dormant, in Harold’s 
veins, for since there was no escaping the encoun¬ 
ter, he resolved to enter it without flinching, and 
grimly bent upon victory. 

Thus musing, he rose from the table, and as he 
did so, his eyes fell upon the coin which Jimmy 
had flung down, as he had taken his departure. 
Harold gazed at it for one profanely silent mo¬ 
ment; then deliberately pocketed it. 

“ I need those three millions,” he muttered to 
himself, “ and I mean to have them, too. But 
if it came down to a choice between money, or 
beating Jimmy, why I’d rather give him a licking 
than have all the cash in the world.” 

And with his jaw set like a vise, he turned 
sharply on his heel, and left the room. 


CHAPTER IV 


JIMMY MAKES A MARVELOUS DISCOVERY 

If Jimmy’s theories regarding his uncle’s destina¬ 
tion were correct, and if the elder Blake had really 
secured a “ nice reserved seat ” in some celestial 
grandstand, and had settled comfortably down 
to watch the contest for his millions, he surely 
had no reason to complain of a lack of enthusiasm 
on his nephews’ part. 

Their expectations of winning the prize, how¬ 
ever, were in decided contrast, for while Harold 
sat meditating at the club, pondering anxiously 
over the laws of chance, and vainly wondering 
what course the erratic Jimmy would be most 
likely to pursue, Jimmy himself, speeding swiftly 
back toward college on the afternoon express, had 
already completed his plans for the campaign, 
and had arrived, moreover, at the cheerful con¬ 
clusion that the odds were all in his favor, and 
that the victory was practically as good as won. 

“ Harold,” he reflected, “ is bound to play safe. 
He’s never gambled in his life, and he won’t begin 


50 


Putting It Over 


now. He’ll stow his money away in a bureau 
drawer, or if he gets really reckless, he might plunge, 
and put it in the bank. But that will be about his 
limit, so all I’ve got to do is to pull off one good bet, 
and then quit. Why, it’s too easy; it’s a cinch. 
It’s like Babe Ruth hitting a home run.” 

But this mood of radiant optimism was too 
beautiful to last, and presently, as Jimmy glanced 
at the evening paper, the headlines of the finan¬ 
cial column caught his eye, and gave his self-confi¬ 
dence a sudden shock. 

“ Union Pacific,” so the story ran, “ jumps ten 
dollars a share. Rumors of cash dividend to 
stockholders. Bears are routed, while bulls make 
huge profits.” 

Beginning at the top of the page, Jimmy read 
the article through to the end. Ordinarily, since 
he had never dealt in stocks, he would have felt 
no interest in such news, but coming just at this 
time, the rise in Union Pacific annoyed him, for if 
Harold, as he professed, had spent the last four 
years in learning to make money, it seemed to 
Jimmy highly probable that his cousin, from time 
to time, might be able to take advantage of just 
such fluctuations in the market as this. And the 
more he thought about it, the less confidence he 
felt, for it was evident that a real insider, possessed 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 51 

of Harold’s resources, might have made at least 
five hundred dollars on the day’s rise, without even 
having to resort to the dubious expedient of trad¬ 
ing upon a margin. 

And now Jimmy, for the first time, began 
properly to appreciate the mental alertness of 
Uncle Ebenezer. 

“ The wise old devil,” he muttered to himself, 
and Harold’s reference to the duel in the dark 
came back to him with redoubled force. 

“That,” he admitted to himself, “is just about 
the size of it. You can do all the scheming you 
want to, on your own account, but you can’t get 
a line on what the other fellow is doing. And no 
matter how much money you make, you’ll still 
be worrying for fear he’s going you one better. 
I can see myself at the end of three months, all 
right. I’ll have gray hair, nervous prostration, 
and liver complaint; that’s the one best bet I 
know.” 

But presently his panic forsook him, and his 
courage began to revive. 

“ Oh, I don’t really believe,” he decided, 
“ that Harold will do anything rash. And even 
if he does make a lot of money, why what am I 
going to be doing all that time. I know darned 
well I can beat him. I’m always lucky; just see 


52 


Putting It Over 


how I took that ten spot away from Mike. So 
the first good chance I get, I’ll invest part of this 
thousand, and if I win the first time, maybe I 
can run a shoestring into a tannery without touch¬ 
ing the rest of the coin at all.” 

His opportunity, indeed, was to come sooner 
than he expected, for at the next station two young 
fellows of about his own age boarded the train, 
and took their places in the seat before him. 
They were talking volubly and audibly, and before 
many moments had passed Jimmy had become 
aware that they not only belonged to the college 
against which Craven was to pitch on the follow¬ 
ing day, but furthermore, that it was this very 
ball game which they were so earnestly discussing. 

“ I tell you,” the first speaker declared, “ that 
we’re going to lick them. Our team can hit harder 
and we know more base ball, too. So if I can find 
a chance to bet a hundred, at anywhere near 
evens, I’m going to do it. I believe it’s just like 
getting money from home.” 

But his companion did not seem to share his 
confidence. 

“ Oh, I don’t think it’s such a cinch,” he de¬ 
murred. “ Perhaps it’s true we have a better 
team, but what if Blake pitches? He hasn’t 
been licked this year.” 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 53 

Jimmy smiled to himself. He had not expected 
to have his name brought into the discussion, 
and was now forced to listen to a further estimate 
of his worth, as the would-be bettor rejoined, 
“ Oh, Blake can pitch like hell; everyone knows 
that. But they won’t use him to-morrow; never 
in the world. He worked yesterday, you know, 
against Templeton. It’s Charley Craven’s turn, 
and he isn’t in Blake’s class, by a long shot.” 

“ Then if you do put up your coin,” his com¬ 
panion replied, “ why don’t you have it under¬ 
stood that unless Craven starts the game, the bet 
doesn’t go. I should think that would be the 
safest way.” 

Jimmy could feel his money burning and itching 
in his pocket. If Craven was in form, he knew 
that the wager was a good one, and on the impulse 
of the moment he leaned forward and touched the 
boy in front of him on the shoulder. 

“ Beg pardon,” he observed, “ but I couldn’t 
help hearing what you said. If you’ll be at the 
hotel to-night, at eight o’clock, I think I can cover 
that bet for you. One hundred dollars, even; 
nothing doing unless Craven starts the game.” 

The young man looked at him, and was evi¬ 
dently satisfied with his inspection. 

“ All right,” he responded; “ I’ll be there,” 


54 


Putting It Over 


and Jimmy, having taken the first step toward 
amassing a fortune, once again leaned back in his 
seat, and began to consider his subsequent plans. 

“ To begin with,” he reflected, “ I must see 
Mike, and find out how well Charley did to-day. 
If he was in shape, then I’ll take that bet, and I 
ought to win it, too. And that will be a hundred 
to the good, just for a starter. I’ll be playing on 
velvet, then.” 

Accordingly, as soon as he reached home, he 
went at once to the gymnasium, and found the head 
coach in the most genial of moods, so pleasantly 
disposed, indeed, toward the world in general that 
he heard Jimmy’s report on Mr. Ellison, paid over 
his ten dollars without complaint, and imme¬ 
diately shifted the conversation to the subject of 
the afternoon’s work. 

Craven, it appeared, had done splendidly, and 
O’Reilly, usually the most conservative of men, 
made no effort to conceal his satisfaction at the 
manner in which his second string pitcher had 
performed. 

“ Jimmy,” he confided, “ he never showed up in 
his life the way he did to-day. He was just about 
perfect. Speed; curves; control; everything. If 
he’s in the same form to-morrow, we’ve got the 
game on ice, and that’s all there is to that.” 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 55 

“ Good enough,” was Jimmy’s comment. “ I’m 
awfully glad to hear it,” and firmly resolved to 
make the bet, he started for his room, so busily 
engaged in thinking of his own affairs that it was 
not until he was half way across the yard that he 
suddenly remembered Craven’s tea. 

At once he paused, irresolute. 

“ I’ll cut it out,” was his first thought, but 
immediately recollected, with a sigh, that he had 
promised to come, if he returned in time. 

“ Oh well,” he finally concluded, “ I guess it 
won’t kill me. I’ll go, and get it off my mind. 
It must be nearly over, anyway,” and cheered by 
the thought, he departed in the direction of Cra¬ 
ven’s dormitory. 

Once outside the room, however, his courage 
again failed him, for the confused murmur of 
voices from within made it plain that the affair, 
instead of being ended, was at its very height. 

“ The person who invented teas,” he gloomily 
reflected, “ deserves a life sentence. I’m a fool 
to be here at all.” 

And thus he stood waiting, his hand on the 
latch, facing, if he had but known it, one of the 
crises of his life, until at last, in a burst of unselfish 
heroism, he opened the door, and went in. 

For the next few moments, utterly discouraged 


56 


Putting It Over 


and resigned to his fate, he went through the 
customary course of greetings and introductions, 
shook hands mechanically, muttered “ Yes ” and 
“ No “ Pleased to meet you ” and “ Lovely 
day”; and finally found himself, without any 
very clear idea of how he came to be there, perched 
at one end of the broad window seat, dexterously 
juggling a tea cup, a sandwich, and a piece of 
cake, and gazing, between whiles, at a radiant 
vision in pink, who sat opposite him. In the con¬ 
fusion, he had not caught her name, but even the 
unimpressionable Jimmy could see that she was 
extremely fair to look upon, and instead of giggling 
and blushing, she presently observed, with evident 
sincerity, “ First of all, Mr. Blake, I want you to 
tell me why a spitter breaks, and then I want 
to know how you ever manage to control it. I 
cannot understand how you make it wait until 
just as it gets to the batter.” 

Jimmy stared, and wondered if he could have 
heard aright. 

“ Now that,” he reflected, “ is one of the few 
intelligent questions I ever heard a lady ask. 
This still seems to be my lucky day. I must have 
struck the only sensible girl in the room.” 

And being an authoritjr upon his subject, he 
launched forth at once into a description of the 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 57 

whys and wherefores of the spit ball which held 
her breathless with delight. 

Five minutes elapsed, and at the end of that 
time Jimmy found himself thinking, “ Well, this 
is the first girl I ever met who didn’t bore me to 
death. But it’s only because she likes base ball. 
The moment we start talking about something 
else, it will be a case of ‘ good night, nurse.’ She’ll 
be just as bad as all the rest.” 

But at the expiration of a second five minutes, 
although the conversation had shifted to other 
topics, it was still flourishing famously, and the 
cautious Jimmy, whose invariable rule, at the 
commencement of a tete-a-tete, was first of all to 
evolve a suitable method of escape, for once had 
utterly forgotten this cautionary measure, and 
though he still regarded himself as impregnable, 
he could not help observing that it was becoming 
increasingly difficult for him to keep his eyes from 
her face. 

“ Golly! ” was his unwilling concession. “ But 
she is certainly easy to look at. She’s the prettiest 
girl I ever saw in my life.” 

And by the time a third five minutes had passed, 
he had gradually become aware that this young 
lady not only knew infinitely more than he did, 
but that her brain was far quicker than his own, 


58 


Putting It Over 


and that in his numerous attempts to “ jolly ” 
her, he was consistently coming out a poor second. 
And presently, with a sudden start, it dawned 
upon him that the principles of a lifetime were in 
imminent danger of collapsing under him. 

“ Steady, old top,” he advised himself. “ Steady, 
now. You want to get together. You’re slip¬ 
ping.” 

But in spite of himself, he knew that he was 
waging a losing fight, and a moment later, as the 
crowd began to lessen, and it became evident that 
the tea was nearly over, it occurred to him that he 
did not even know the vision’s name. 

“ When I was introduced to you,” he observed, 
“ there was a fearful racket going on. Apparently, 
you heard my name, but I didn’t catch yours. 
And seeing that you are the only girl I ever met 
who could talk base ball, I’d certainly like to know 
what it is.” 

But instead of replying directly to his question, 
she answered, “ Tell me something first. You 
perfectly hate teas, don’t you? ” 

“ As a rule, I do,” he admitted frankly enough. 
“ But not this one. Why, how did you guess it? ” 

“ It wasn’t a bit difficult,” she responded. 
“ When we shook hands, I don’t suppose you know 
what your expression reminded me of.” 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 59 

“ I haven’t the faintest idea/’ he rejoined. 
Then added, with conviction, “ I know how I 
ought to have looked, but from the way you’re 
talking, I don’t imagine I did.” 

“ No, you really didn’t,” she replied. “ Not 
in the least. For when I heard your name, and 
knew that you were the Mr. Blake who played 
ball, I thought to myself, 1 That is just the way I 
believe he would look, if he were in the box, with 
three men on bases, and two out, and the batter 
caught one exactly right, and knocked it over the 
fence for a home run.’ ” 

Jimmy grinned. 

“Was it honestly,” he queried, “ as bad as 
that? ” 

“ It honestly was,” she answered. “ So I 
immediately concluded that you were either very 
shy, or very much bored. And I was interested 
to know which it was.” 

Jimmy’s grin broadened. 

“ Girls are funny things,” he responded. “How 
was I to know I was being vivisected like that? 
And what is the final diagnosis? Shy or bored? ” 

She affected to deliberate before she answered, 
“ Well, I can’t honestly call you shy.” 

“ Aha! ” he exclaimed. “ There’s gratitude for 
you. I do my level best to explain to you why a 


60 


Putting It Over 


spitter breaks, and in return you say that I’ve 
been acting as if I were bored. No wonder I 
don’t like teas, when that’s the way I’m treated. 
But ingratitude or not, still I want to know your 
name. And you haven’t told me yet.” 

“ If it will help to make amends,” she laughed, 
“ let me hasten to inform you. There’s no mys¬ 
tery about it. It happens to be Dorothy Law¬ 
rence. My brother Dick was here in college three 
years ago.” 

But Jimmy scarcely heard the latter part of her 
sentence, nor was he particularly interested in 
knowing that her last name was Lawrence, but 
that her first name was Dorothy was a significant 
and — he was forced to admit it — distinctly an 
unwelcome fact, for at once he remembered what 
Craven had said to him, as they were crossing the 
yard together, earlier in the day. 

“ Oh,” he cried instinctively, “ then you’re 
Charley’s — ” 

But at this point he pulled himself up short. 

“ Yes? ” she said inquiringly. “ You were 
going to say —” 

“ I was going to say ‘ Charley’s girl,’ ” he 
replied, “ but it occurred to me that it wasn’t a 
very appropriate way of expressing myself, so I 
stopped.” 




Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 61 

“ Charley and I,” she responded, “ have known 
each other all our lives/ 7 and it seemed as though 
she would have added something more, but before 
she had an opportunity to do so, Craven himself 
came hurrying across the room to join them. 

“ Aunt Martha wanted me to tell you, Doro¬ 
thy/ 7 he volunteered, “ that she had gone home 
without you. She said you appeared to be 
enjoying yourself, and that she wasn’t going to 
interrupt. 77 

“ Yes, indeed I was/ 7 Dorothy demurely 
answered. “ I was having a lovely time. But 
I’m afraid Mr. Blake has been terribly bored. 77 

“ Now look here/ 7 Jimmy retorted, “ even a 
lady has to show some respect for the truth. 
And just for that, I’m going to ask if I may walk 
home with you. We can fight this out on the 
way. 77 

“ I should be delighted/ 7 she replied, and Craven 
looked after them with knitted brows. 

“ Jimmy, too/ 7 he muttered. “ And he calls 
himself a woman hater. That’s what I get for 
obliging Dorothy, and insisting upon his coming 
to the tea. Oh, damn everything, anyway/ 7 and 
he forthwith returned, in most disgruntled mood, 
to his duties as host. 

By the time they had reached Dorothy’s home, 


62 


Putting It Over 


Jimmy’s views on the subject of girls were, as he 
mentally admitted to himself, “ badly shot to 
pieces,” and although he was well aware that he 
was deliberately running into danger, he neverthe¬ 
less lingered unconscionably long at the gate. 

“ Won’t you come in,” she asked at last, “ and 
have supper with us? ” 

“ Don’t I wish I might,” he answered, “ but 
we have to show up at training table.” 

Then, shamelessly deserting his cherished princi¬ 
ples, and abandoning them to shift for themselves, 
he added, “ I wish, though, I could see you again.” 

“ I am afraid,” she rejoined, “ there’s not much 
chance of it. This is such a flying trip. I’m 
going west again with my aunt, for a three months’ 
visit, and we’re starting day after to-morrow.” 

Jimmy’s face perceptibly lengthened. 

“ What a shame! ” he cried impulsively, and 
as her hand happened to be resting on the gate 
between them, with a perfectly instinctive and 
primitive gesture, he laid his own upon it. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t go,” he begged. “ Do 
you really have to? ” 

Her hand was quickly withdrawn. 

“ I believe,” she cried, “ that you’re making 
fun of me. Why, Charley has always told me 
that you simply detested girls.” 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 63 

But what to Jimmy, before this eventful day, 
had always been the highest possible praise, now 
filled him with resentment. 

“ Nothing of the sort,” he mendaciously re¬ 
sponded; “ of course I like girls. I’m crazy 
about ’em. Charley was bluffing you.” 

But the mention of Craven’s name had sud¬ 
denly restored what was left of his senses. 

“ I’m just about on the point,” he reflected, 
“ of making a fool of myself. And if she’s en¬ 
gaged to Charley, here’s where I want to quit, 
right away. I’ve never butted into another 
fellow’s love affairs yet, and I won’t begin now. 
I’ll ask her if she is engaged to him, and if she 
is, I’ll pull out of this so quick you can’t see me 
go.” 

Yet before he could ask the question, Dorothy’s 
name was called peremptorily from the house, 
and she cried, “ Yes, I’m coming,” and then, 
to Jimmy, “ I must go in; I’m frightfully late 
to supper. But I wish you all success for to¬ 
morrow, and I have enjoyed meeting you very 
much indeed.” 

She gave him her hand, in farewell, but Jimmy, 
taking it, felt as though he could have held it for¬ 
ever, and thought desperately of some possible 
chance of seeing her again. 


64 


Putting It Over 


“ Will you go to walk with me, to-morrow after¬ 
noon, after the game? ” he asked. “ We’ve got 
one perfectly bully walk here. Woods and the 
river and the valley. It’s great.” 

“ Yes, I’ve heard of it,” she answered. “ Isn’t 
it the one they call Lovers’ Lane! ” 

Jimmy had the feeling that the name was going 
to result in a refusal of his invitation. 

“ Why yes,” he unwillingly assented, “ that’s 
what they call it. But then — ” he added, 
inanely enough, “ you — you needn’t mind that.” 

She gazed at him with apparent gravity; then 
most unexpectedly answered, “ But I don’t. 
Not in the least. I’ll go with pleasure,” and with 
this parting shot she ran quickly up the path, 
leaving him staring blankly after her. 

Slowly and thoughtfully he walked back toward 
the college yard, for here was a problem before 
which the gentle art of striking out batsmen faded 
into insignificance. He had never met a girl like 
this — had never, in fact, dreamed that such a 
girl existed — but was she, or was she not, engaged 
to Craven? He racked his brains to recall exactly 
what Charley had told him, but since, until now, 
he had felt no interest in the subject, and had 
been frankly bored by his friend’s sighs and 
eulogies, he found himself unable to remember 


Jimmy Makes a Marvelous Discovery 65 

whether Charley had ever used the word “ en¬ 
gaged ” or not. He had called her his “ girl/’ 
but that, Jimmy hopefully argued to himself, was 
scarcely the same thing. 

“ I’ll ask Charley himself/’ he decided, but the 
next moment realized that this would not only be 
an asinine thing to do, but that it would inevitably 
distract Craven’s thoughts from the all-important 
matter of the ball game. And thus he proceeded 
to the training table, resolved to keep his own 
counsel until the following day. 

In spite of his abstraction, however, he did not 
forget to stop at the hotel and put up the hundred 
dollars, for the contest with Harold, instead of 
being dwarfed by the later experience of falling in 
love, now possessed an even greater importance 
than before. For to win the money for himself 
was one thing, but the possibility of winning it 
for himself and Dorothy — there was an incentive 
to make him do the best that was in him. 

That night, he tossed from side to side for hours, 
before he finally fell asleep, for the happenings of 
this momentous day made all his previous exis¬ 
tence appear utterly uneventful and insignificant. 
For some time, the thought of Ebenezer Blake and 
his strange will possessed him, but soon every¬ 
thing else gave place to dreams of Dorothy. The 


66 


Putting It Over 


little god had never sped a deadlier arrow, and 
since his victim had been immune for so many 
years, love now consumed him like a fever. 

And that Jimmy appreciated the wonder and 
the glory of it all was shown by the fact that for 
the first time in his life, a sense of his own un¬ 
worthiness oppressed him. 

“ I don’t believe,” he reflected, “ that she’d 
want me, anyway. I’ve lived a clean life, thank 
God, and I can pitch a fair game of ball, but I’m 
afraid I’m not long on intellect, or on general 
ability. She knows more in five minutes than I 
could learn in a year.” 

And yet, on the other hand, he could not help 
hoping, from her manner toward him, that she 
might be willing to overlook his deficiencies for 
the sake of his devotion, and if she were not really 
engaged to Craven, he felt that he stood a fighting 
chance to win. 

“ A girl like that,” was his last waking thought, 
“can make three million dollars look like thirty 
cents.” 


CHAPTER V 


WHEN A HIT MEANT THE GAME 

Craven had tried his best, but the swift inshoot 
broke wide of the plate, and as it landed, with a 
“ thut,” in the catcher’s glove, the umpire’s 
resonant bellow reverberated to the uttermost 
boundaries of the field. 

“ Ball — thr-r-ee! ” he roared; and at the 
words, pandemonium itself burst forth among the 
forces of the enemy. The runners on second 
and third danced back and forth, with short, 
springing steps, while the coaches on the side 
lines leaped madly about, with wildly waving 
arms, shouting, at the top of their lungs, “ Three 
and two; three and two; he’s got to groove it. 
Everybody run, now; everybody run.” 

Yet all this disturbance, so pleasantly reassur¬ 
ing to Craven’s ears, was merely a display of 
individual genius, and was quite overshadowed by 
the tumult in the stands. Here, the whole visi¬ 
tors’ section had suddenly blossomed into a whirl 
of waving flags, caps and handkerchiefs, while an 
organized chorus of “ rooters,” massed solidly in 


68 


Putting It Over 


the front rows, droned steadily, in measured 
cadence, “ He can’t get ’em over; he’s blowing 
up,” and at last, quickening their tempo, appealed 
directly to the coach of the home team, accom¬ 
panying their chant with a crashing of boot hee's 
on the grandstand floor, successfully to mark the 
beat. 

“ Mike, Mike, Mike, take him out, out, out,” 
was the sarcastic burden of their prayer, and as a 
fitting climax, just as the unhappy Craven made 
ready to deliver the ball, the chorus disbanded, 
resolving itself into a howling mob, and an ululant 
medley of shrieks, groans and yells, in awful and 
disconcerting discord, fairly tore asunder the 
summer air. 

Over on the player’s bench, Jimmy Blake, 
elbows on knees, chin in hands, was watching 
anxiously, fearful as to the outcome of the game. 
An hour ago, it had seemed as though the stage 
were set for a grand triumphal scene. For one 
thing, it was the final contest of the year, and a 
victory meant the college championship; for 
another, it was the last game Craven would ever 
pitch in a college uniform, and finally, and most 
important of all, somewhere up in the grandstand, 
his “ best girl ” was intently looking down upon 
the field below. Yet despite all these incentives, 


When a Hit Meant the Game 


69 


Craven himself, cast by Fate and the command of 
Mike O’Reilly for the hero’s role, was not only 
pitching one of the poorest games of his career, 
but with each succeeding inning was growing 
steadily worse. So far, indeed, brilliant fielding 
by his team mates had saved him from disaster, 
and the score was only two to one against him, 
but now, at the first of the sixth, although two men 
were out, there were runners on second and third, 
and two strikes and three balls on the batter. 
The result of the game might well depend upon the 
next ball pitched. 

By Jimmy’s side, the head coach, lean, bronzed, 
taciturn, gazed at the diamond from under half- 
closed lids, and spat a blade of grass from between 
his teeth. Outwardly, he appeared unconcerned, 
careless of the doom which threatened his team, 
but this was far from being the case. Behind the 
sleepy eyes, an alert and active brain was weighing 
the chances of the struggle. Matters were not 
going to his liking, yet Jimmy had been through a 
gruelling battle only two days before, and while 
a chance remained for his second string man to 
weather the storm, he hesitated to take him from 
the box. 

And now Craven, wiping the sweat from his 
forehead, again made ready to pitch, but both 


70 


Putting It Over 


O’Reilly and Jimmy, thoroughly familiar with his 
style, noted a weakness and indecision in his 
delivery that augured badly for success. Nor 
were they mistaken, for the ball, meant for a sharp 
drop, struck fairly in front of the plate, and only 
the catcher’s agility prevented an error, and a 
further addition to the score. The batter ambled 
joyfully to first; again the storm of cheers burst 
forth from the grandstand, and O’Reilly turned 
quickly to Blake. 

“ Get out there beyond the bleachers, and warm 
up,” he commanded. And to Jack Williams, 
substitute catcher of the team, he added, “ Go 
along with him, Jack. Step lively, now.” 

But Jimmy, as he rose to his feet, for the first 
time in his life ventured a suggestion to the coach, 
and one in such clear opposition to his own inter¬ 
ests that a less unselfish man would never have 
made it. Yet he and Charley Craven had been 
friends for four years, and Jimmy was loyal. 

“ Say, Mike,” he pleaded, “ don’t take him out 
unless you have to. His girl’s on here to see the 
game; he wants to win like the very devil.” 

To anyone else but Jimmy, O’Reilly would 
have turned the deaf ear of utter contempt. But 
to his favorite pupil he vouchsafed a reply, almost 
as cutting as silence would have been. 


When a Hit Meant the Game 71 

“ And what the hell/’ he retorted, “ do you 
think I care for Craven, or his girl? We’ve got 
to win this game. You get out there now, quick 
as the Lord will let you,” and Jimmy, feeling that 
he had done his best, trotted out beyond the 
bleachers, and began obediently to limber up. 

From where he stood, he could watch, from the 
corner of his eye, the progress of the game. It 
was an anxious moment; there was no question 
as to that; for the next man up was Joe Bal- 
lantyne, the heaviest hitter on the enemy’s team. 
Jimmy saw Craven pitch, and the batter swing; 
heard the sound of a fairly hit ball, and then, from 
the stands, a tumult of shouting, and the cry, 
“ Home run! It’s a homer! ” 

“ There,” he thought to himself, with a great 
sinking of the heart, “goes the game,” and so, 
indeed, it looked to everyone, yet far out in right 
field, little Densmore, fastest sprinter on the 
team, a ten and a fifth man at the hundred, and 
the best base stealer in college, had taken the one 
possible chance, and turning at the crack of the 
bat, was racing backward at the very top of his 
speed. Jimmy, watching breathlessly, saw ball 
and player converge, and suddenly supreme and 
overwhelming confidence possessed him. 

“ He’s got it,” he cried aloud, and with the words 


72 


Putting It Over 


Densmore, at the critical instant of time, turned, 
reached out his gloved hand, and still on the dead 
run, captured the ball. 

“ Thank God,” cried Jimmy piously, and a roar 
of rejoicing from the stands greeted the play that, 
at least for the time being, had saved the game. 

And now, while the rival teams changed places, 
Jimmy was free to give his whole attention to 
warming up. It was possible, he concluded, but 
highly improbable, that Craven would rally suffi¬ 
ciently to win, and he knew that if called upon, 
he must be in trim to step into the box, prepared 
to pitch “ airtight ” ball from the very start. 
And to his delight, as he began to work out in 
earnest, he realized that it was one of those 
fortunate days which come, at intervals, to every 
athlete, and that he possessed everything he could 
wish for. His speed was terrific, his control almost 
mechanical, his “ spitter ” broke to perfection; 
and in his heart he felt that if he were needed, he 
could play as he had never played before. 

Williams, too, was quick to notice his form. 

“ Say, old top,” he called, “ you’d better let 
me go in there and tell Mike to take Craven out. 
No team alive could hit you to-day. You’d make 
those fellows look foolish if you got after them.” 

But Jimmy shook his head. 


When a Hit Meant the Game 


73 


“ No,” he answered, “ it’s up to Mike. Charley 
may get together next inning, and pitch better 
than I could. But I must admit,” he added to 
himself, as he sent in a straight fast one with a 
force that made Williams stagger, “ that this 
seems to be my day. Hope they don’t take him 
out, though. It would just about break his heart.” 

He tried to make himself believe that he meant 
the words, yet apart from his sympathy for Cra¬ 
ven, he knew that if the occasion should arise, he 
would like nothing better than to take his turn 
in the box. The hundred dollar bet loomed large, 
and the desire to show Dorothy a few innings of 
perfect ball persisted within him. 

Meanwhile, out on the playing field, the home 
team had ended their half of the sixth inning by 
going out in one, two, three order, and had once 
more taken their places in the field. And as their 
opponents went to the bat, at the beginning of the 
seventh, it became evident that the enemy had 
determined to break up the game with a sharp, 
fierce batting rally, for the first man up hit the 
first ball pitched for a pretty single to right field. 

Jimmy sighed. 

“ Looks mighty bad,” he thought to himself, 
and a moment later doubt became certainty, as 
the next man up repeated the performance, and 


74 


Putting It Over 


on the hit and run play, slipped the ball between 
second and short, making first in safety, and send¬ 
ing the man ahead of him around to third. 

It was enough. Instantly, a substitute de¬ 
tached himself from the crowd on the bench, and 
came tearing toward them, beckoning frantically. 
Simultaneously, Craven started to leave the box, 
and Jimmy, with heart beating more rapidly than 
usual, walked briskly in toward the diamond. 

At the bench, he paused to receive O’Reilly’s 
instructions. The coach was plainly worried. 

“ Going good? ” he asked. 

It was no time for mock modesty, and Jimmy 
nodded. 

“ Swell,” he briefly answered. 

O’Reilly’s face brightened a trifle. 

“ Then keep ’em from hitting, if you can,” he 
advised. “ You’ve got the bottom of the list to 
work on. That ought to help some.” 

Jimmy nodded, and walked out on the field. 
Near the first base foul line, he met Craven, march¬ 
ing dejectedly along, cap pulled down over his 
eyes. His lip quivered, and his whole face was 
working convulsively. Jimmy, scarcely knowing 
what to do, instinctively put out his hand. 

“ I’m sorry, Charley,” he sympathized. “ But 
don’t you mind. You did all you could.” 


75 


When a Hit Meant the Game 

\ 

Craven looked at him, with anguish in his eyes. 

“ I’m a damned quitter,” he cried self-accus- 
ingly, “ but I couldn’t help it, Jimmy. I couldn’t 
pitch. It’s — it’s Dorothy. It’s all over with me 
now. She refused me, last night.” 

He gulped, and strode on toward the bench, 
while Jimmy, being but human, and having noth¬ 
ing with which to reproach himself, marched out 
to the box, with the exultant feeling that he held 
the whole world in his grasp. Curtis, the second 
baseman, tossed him the ball. 

“ Hold ’em, old man,” he cried, and Jimmy 
nodded. 

How good it seemed to him to be out here again 
on the mound. In the class room, on the campus, 
everywhere else in the world, he had always to 
defer to someone wiser than himself, but here, at 
least, he was supreme. His first problem was to 
decide whether or not the enemy would attempt 
a double steal, and he at once determined, that 
with no one out, they would not dare risk the 
play. Accordingly, he was free to devote his 
attention to the batter, and he felt sure that his 
adversary’s plan would be to catch the new pitcher 
before he was thoroughly warmed up, and that 
he would bite, like a hungry fish, at anything which 
had the appearance of being a good one. And 


76 


Putting It Over 


thus, with a deceptive smile of good will on his face, 
he served up a fast drop, a wicked inshoot, then 
wasted one, purposely wide and slow, and then 
shifted again to the speed and the drop. Three 
strikes and out. The grandstand roared, his 
team mates cheered him on, and Jimmy, cool and 
confident, faced the second batsman, and since 
this was the catcher, with a propensity for long 
hitting, calmly passed him, waved to the infield to 
drop back, and inducing the pitcher to swing at a 
wide outcurve, a fast double play resulted, and the 
side was out. 

The narrow escape, combined with Jimmy’s 
form in the box, gave the home team renewed 
confidence, and twice, as the game continued, they 
came within an ace of going into the lead. In the 
seventh, they had men on first and second, with 
only one out, but a high foul and a hit to the 
pitcher dashed their hopes. And again, in the 
eighth, with a man on third, and two out, a splen¬ 
did stop by the opposing first baseman cut off a 
seemingly certain score. And thus, as Jimmy 
himself was invincible, they came to the last of the 
ninth, with the score still two to one against them. 

The inning opened badly, for the first man up 
was out on a long fly to centre field. The next 
batter, however, was given a base on balls, and 


When a Hit Meant the Game 


77 


Curtis, the captain, drove a beautiful two-bagger 
to left field. But hope sank again as the catcher 
struck out, and with men on second and third, 
Jimmy went to bat with the knowledge that the 
winning of the game depended upon him alone. 

He scarcely heeded the shouting of the crowd, 
and was conscious of feeling no excitement what¬ 
ever, but only a perfect confidence that he was 
due for a hit. One ball, and then another, he let 
go by, but the third suited him, and picking out the 
spot over second base where he meant to place 
his shot, he swung sharply, and was off for first, 
running like a deer, while the tumult behind him 
told him that the ball had gone safe. 

As he rounded first, he could see that the man 
on third had scored, and that the man on second 
was almost home. The centre fielder’s ineffectual 
throw to the plate went wild, and the next moment 
the game was over, and the crowd came pouring 
gaily forth onto the field. 

Jimmy, walking in toward the bench, felt a 
double thrill. His hit had won the game, and 
until the events of yesterday, that would have 
been a fulfillment of his wildest dreams. But 
now, with greater things impending, the contest 
seemed to him like a connecting link between his 
college life, and the experiences awaiting him in 


78 


Putting It Over 


the larger world beyond. For he had made the 
first step toward the winning of his uncle’s fortune; 
one hundred dollars was a waiting him at the hotel; 
and of greater importance still, he was free to 
meet Dorothy, for their walk to the river, with full 
liberty to tell her all that was in his heart. 

“ Oh you good old world,” murmured Jimmy 
to himself. “ What a cinch it is to be alive.” 


i 


CHAPTER VI 

LOVERS* LANE 

They were approaching the end of their journey, 
and presently, from the quiet, cloistered path 
among the pines, patterned alternately with light 
and shade, they emerged, abruptly, into a world of 
radiant sunshine, and of sweeping and magnificent 
distances. 

It was, at once, both the conclusion and the 
culmination of their walk, and Jimmy, realizing, 
as he glanced forth over the valley, the ineptitude 
of adjectives, the futility of superlatives, spoke no 
word, but as Dorothy seated herself upon the 
grassy slope, flung himself down, at full length, 
on the turf by her side, his eyes fixed upon her 
face, as she gazed, in silence, at the scene before 
them. 

Far away to the south, far as the eye could reach, 
stretched the pleasant, fertile valley, field and 
marsh and meadow blending together in varied 
shades of soft and verdant green. On either side, 
the mountains towered upward toward the sky, 


80 


Putting It Over 


and beneath them the broad blue river wound 
leisurely along, in many a graceful curve, on its 
pilgrimage to the sea. Beyond the distant hills, 
the setting sun, gradually nearing the horizon, 
flooded the landscape with level beams of golden 
light. 

For some moments, neither spoke, and when at 
length Dorothy broke the silence, the sincerity of 
her admiration was manifest in the very repression 
of her speech. 

“It is perfect/’ she said softly. “ I think I 
never saw anything so beautiful.” 

And presently, since they were man and maid, 
and since, among Nature’s manifold miracles, 
there are some more wonderful still than splendour 
of earth or sky, she added, “ I cannot tell you how 
much I have enjoyed my walk; how much I have 
enjoyed my whole day. I am still thinking of the 
game. It was magnificent. I was never more 
excited in my life.” 

But Jimmy did not appear disposed to receh j 
her praise in a properly appreciative spirit. 

“ Oh well, base ball —” he began, and although 
he did not finish his sentence, his tone of disparage¬ 
ment made his meaning clear. 

She glanced at him in surprise. 

“ Why, I think,” she exclaimed, “ that you are 


Lovers 1 Lane 


81 


most ungrateful. Don’t people always criticize 
a man for throwing away the ladder on which he 
has risen to fame? ” 

She spoke half in jest, half in earnest, and Jimmy 
was somewhat puzzled to know how to answer 
her. 

“ Oh, not much fame, I’m afraid,” he finally 
rejoined, but she quickly responded, again with 
that provoking mixture of seriousness and frivol¬ 
ity, “ Oh, but it’s so. You don’t half realize it. 
Why, all the girls around me were saying, 1 Isn’t 
he too wonderful ? ’ “Isn’t he perfectly splendid ?’ 
And all the men were muttering, ‘ Some pitcher, 
that boy.’ ” 

She mimicked so successfully that Jimmy was 
forced to smile. 

“ So you see,” she continued, “ that you ought 
to be much more grateful than you are. But I 
imagine I know what the trouble is. You’re just 
like Alexander —” 

But at this point Jimmy was guilty of an inter¬ 
ruption, for the comparison filled him with 
amazement. 

“ Alexander? ” he echoed, “who pitches for the 
Cubs? Why, do you know him? ” 

But to his surprise, Dorothy immediately 
became helpless and incoherent with laughter. 


82 


Putting It Over 


“ Oh where,” she cried, when she could speak, 
“ are the benefits of a college education? Must I 
really quote, ‘ No more worlds to conquer.’ Why, 
the children at home learn that in grammar 
school.” 

Jimmy’s cheeks burned. For a moment, he 
was threatened with a sudden and explosive loss 
of temper, but fortunately his good sense and 
his love of humor combined to save him. 

“ Well, that was a break,” he admitted, “ but 
I wasn’t thinking; I had my mind on base ball. 
And as long as we’re on the subject, I’ll tell you 
what the trouble with me really is. You hit it 
exactly when you talked about the results of my 
college education. I’m densely ignorant, and I’m 
thoroughly aware of it.” 

“ No, no,” she hastened to protest. “ I wasn’t 
speaking seriously. That was a very silly thing 
for me to say. I meant it all in joke, and I apolo¬ 
gize, most humbly.” 

“ But you don’t have to,” Jimmy insisted. 
“ It’s perfectly true. I’ve wasted four years here, 
thinking base ball was the most important thing 
on earth. Heaven knows it hasn’t been the fault 
of the college, or of the professors. The whole 
atmosphere of the place stands for the very best 
sort of culture, and I — I’ve laughed at it — 


Lovers' Lane 


83 


made a barbarian of myself; and now, at the end 
of my course, after I’ve neglected every chance 
I’ve had, I’ve managed, by the aid of tutors and 
notes, to take my degree, and the only thing I 
really know how to do is to curve a base ball. 
Do you wonder Fm down on myself? I tell you, 
Fm about the biggest fool I know.” 

He spoke with vehemence, and seeing how much 
in earnest he was, and realizing, also, that there 
was probably considerable truth in his accusations, 
she became serious in her turn. 

“ I don’t believe,” she comforted him, “ that 
you’ve done half as badly as you say you have. 
But even if you have wasted some of your time, 
it isn’t too late to make it up. You have practi¬ 
cally all your life before you, so you mustn’t speak 
as if you were a man of seventy, when you’re 
really not much more than a boy.” 

“ But that’s not true,” he promptly retorted. 
“ Can’t you see that it’s not. If I were still a 
boy, I should still be satisfied with myself, as I’m 
afraid I always have been. But I’m not one any 
longer, and it makes all the difference in the 
world.” 

As he spoke, his glance, direct and earnest, met 
hers, and she could read so much there that she 
did not dare ask him when this sudden alteration 


84 


Putting It Over 


in his thoughts and ideas had occurred. Yet when 
he spoke again, it was to propound the very query 
which she herself had sought to avoid. 

“ I wonder if you can guess/’ he said slowly, 
“ what has set me to thinking like this. Just when 
this change began.” 

“ Why should you suppose,” she answered, with 
eyes averted, “ that I could tell? ” 

“ I imagined,” he rejoined, “ that you might 
have noticed. As nearly as I can place the time, 
it was yesterday afternoon, between half past five 
and six o’clock. To be more exact, it was when I 
was introduced to you at Charley’s tea.” 

She made no response, and presently he con¬ 
tinued, “ You surely know now what I’m going to 
say, Dorothy, but there’s one thing I want to 
explain to you first. And that is about Charley 
Craven. We have been mighty good friends for 
four years, and he has always talked a lot about 
you, and has always spoken of you as ‘ his girl,’ 
or ‘ his best girl.’ So, if I had thought you two 
were engaged, I should have kept out of the way, 
and not butted in. But it happened that Charley 
told me this afternoon about — about last night — 
so as far as he is concerned, I feel as though I 
had a perfect right to go ahead.” 

Dorothy was serious enough now. 


Lovers’ Lane 


85 


“ I am glad you have told me/’ she answered, 
“ because it is only fair to me for you to hear my 
side of the story, in return. I should not wish 
you to think that I ever gave anyone encourage¬ 
ment without there being reason for it, because I 
am not that sort of a girl. As I told you yester¬ 
day, Charley and I grew up together, and we were 
always the very best of friends, but there was 
never anything more than that on my part, and 
when he asked me to marry him, I told him that I 
did not love him, and that I did not think I ever 
could. But you know what he is like; he said 
that he should go on hoping that I would change 
my mind, and that I couldn’t stop him; and as 
long as there was no one else whom I did care for, 
we finally agreed that we would continue as friends 
and that if I ever came to care for any other man, 
I would tell him so, at once. Of course, it was 
awfully one sided and unfair, but he insisted, so 
what could I do. Do you feel that I was to 
blame? ” 

Jimmy shook his head. 

“ Certainly not,” he answered. “ He took his 
chances — that was all. But personally I think 
he was a good sport to tackle it the way he did.” 

There was a brief silence. Then Dorothy went 
on, “ And so, last night, he came to see me, and 


86 


Putting It Over 


we had a scene. He said that I was acting differ¬ 
ently toward him, and that he felt sure that there 
was someone else, and since he asked me point 
blank, there was nothing for me to do but to tell 
him the truth. So I did.” 

Jimmy caught his breath sharply. 

“ You mean,” he cried, “ that there is someone 
else? ” 

She was looking far off over the valley, and she 
did not turn toward him as she answered, in a 
voice so low as to be scarcely audible, “ Yes.” 

The silence lengthened. No one could have 
told, from Jimmy’s expression, the death blow 
that her response had dealt his hopes, and when 
he next spoke, it seemed, from his first words, as 
though the whole current of his thoughts had 
undergone a sudden change. 

“ Once upon a time,” he abruptly observed, “ I 
had to make a speech at a class dinner. It wasn’t 
exactly in my line, but I plugged pretty hard at 
it, and I thought I had something that was fairly 
good.” 

He paused reminiscently, then continued, “But 
as luck would have it, another fellow was called 
on, just ahead of me, and I’ll be hanged if he didn’t 
get off every identical thing that I was going to 
say. So when it came my turn, there wasn’t 


Lovers' Lane 


87 


much of anything left, and I guess I made rather 
a ridiculous exhibition of myself, before I got 
through.” 

Once more he paused, letting his eyes wander 
toward the afterglow behind the distant hills; 
then again went on, “ You see my point, of course. 
This is a little the same situation, only in a* way 
it’s different. I’m not afraid of making myself 
ridiculous now; I’m proud to tell you that I love 
you, and that I always shall love you. I never 
thought, until yesterday, that there could be any¬ 
thing quite so wonderful in the world. I’m 
disappointed enough at being too late, but I’m 
not a bit surprised. I shouldn’t think there was 
a man alive who could see you without falling 
in love with you. There — I’ve told you, and I 
hope you don’t mind. And don’t think, either, 
that this doesn’t hurt, because it does; we seemed 
to get along so splendidly yesterday that I had 
all sorts of dreams for the future. Never mind, 
though; it’s all in the game. But I can tell you, 
Dorothy, that I’d give about anything on earth if 
I could be in the other fellow’s shoes.” 

And now, for the first time since he had begun 
to speak, she turned toward him, a tender merri¬ 
ment curving her lips and sparkling in her eyes. 

“ Jimmy,” she said, “ I’ve only known you for a 


88 


Putting It Over 


day, and I suppose you have your faults, like the 
rest of us, but I am sure you have one great virtue, 
which is very rare in a man. I dare say you know 
what it is, without my telling you.” 

Jimmy stared at her uncomprehendingly. 

“ I don’t believe I get you,” he responded. 
“ What virtue do you mean? ” 

She gazed at him, eyes brimming with laughter. 

“ I mean your modesty, Jimmy,” she said. 

And at the words he half started to his feet, 
greatly hoping, yet scarcely daring to believe, that 
he understood her aright. 

“ You don’t mean,” he gasped, “ that I am the 
man —” 

“ Jimmy,” she answered, “ I will be as frank 
with you as you have been with me. Even when 
Charley first brought home the photographs of the 
ball team, I always liked your picture the best. 
And then when you became so famous, of course I 
was all the more interested. I used to ask Char¬ 
ley all about you — that is, I asked him as many 
questions as I dared, without having him suspect 
that it was anything but curiosity. Girls are like 
that, you know. And when I came on here, for 
commencement, I hoped very much that I should 
meet you. Only I was half afraid, too; partly 
because Charley had told me that you didn’t care 


Lovers' Lane 


89 


for girls, partly because I imagined, after the 
opinion I had formed of you, that I should proba¬ 
bly be terribly disappointed. 

Jimmy, on the boundaries of Paradise, could 
scarcely muster courage to stammer, “ But — but 
you weren’t? ” 

She smiled divinely. 

“ On the contrary —” she murmured. 

There followed a delicious, delirious five minutes, 
both of them talking at once, and judged by 
ordinary standards, quite madly and incoherently, 
yet after a fashion which lovers, from time im¬ 
memorial, have managed to understand and 
enjoy. But at last a chance remark of Dorothy’s 
brought Jimmy back to the world of real life. 

“ I ought to tell you,” she had said, “ that I 
haven’t any money at all,” and the words sud¬ 
denly brought the matter of the will to his mind. 

“ Dorothy,” he cried eagerly, “ I have some¬ 
thing awfully interesting to tell you.” But 
instantly remembering Mr. Ellison’s commands, 
he hastened to add, “ Only you must tell me first 
that we are really engaged.” 

She reflected; then doubtfully shook her head. 

“ Don’t misunderstand me,” she replied, “ but 
I’m very sure we ought not to be so precipitate 
as that. We are quite beside ourselves, as it is, 


90 


Putting It Over 


to act as we are doing on twenty-four hours’ 
acquaintance. And a broken engagement is such 
a tragic thing; I’ve seen one or two of them 
among my own friends, and they are not pleasant. 
I think an engagement should be as sacred, almost, 
as marriage itself. Let us say this, Jimmy. 
We’re not engaged, but we like each other very 
much, and there isn’t any reason, if we continue 
to get on together as well as we think we’re going 
to, why we shouldn’t be engaged in earnest. 
Isn’t that the fairer way for both of us? ” 

Jimmy reluctantly appreciated the wisdom of 
her words. 

“I — suppose so,” he assented, but imme¬ 
diately added, “ But if you are going away to¬ 
morrow, how are we to manage to see any more 
of each other? ” 

“ I was thinking of that,” she responded. 
“ Don’t you believe you could manage to come 
west, too, and then we could be together, all the 
time. Or have you anything that you’re obliged 
to do that would prevent your coming? ” 

Jimmy thought hard. The temptation was 
wellnigh irresistible, and he felt a wild desire to 
take a desperate gamble with his money, for 
if he won, he would then be free to do as she 
suggested. 


Lovers’ Lane 


91 


“ I can tell you very soon/’ he answered. “ I 
have some business matters to attend to, but if I 
can get away, you can bet I’ll come as fast as the 
train will carry me. Perhaps I can let you know 
more definitely before you go.” 

And then, having discussed practical matters 
long enough, he digressed again into a more 
amatory strain, and it was not until the gathering 
shadows warned them of the hour that they reluc¬ 
tantly arose to depart. 

u Can I see you again to-night? ” he asked. 

“ I’m awfully sorry,” she answered “ but I have 
my packing before me, and to-morrow morning I 
must go shopping with Aunt Martha. But all 
to-morrow afternoon I shall save for you, if you’d 
like to have me. Our train doesn’t leave until 
six o’clock.” 

“ First rate,” responded Jimmy. “ Then you 
will lunch with me at the club, and I’ll plan the 
best afternoon for you that I can. Will that suit 
you? ” 

“ Indeed it will,” she assured him. “ Only I 
hope you can arrange your business affairs so that 
you can come.” 

“ I'll give the greatest imitation of a man trying 
that you ever saw,” he answered. “ Oh Dorothy 
dear, this has been the happiest day of my life.” 


92 


Putting It Over 


The twilight was fairly upon them. As they 
looked across the valley, they could no longer see 
the river, but its rippling murmur struck faintly 
on their ears. All else was silence. Above them, 
one clear star shone in the blue. And thus, with 
his arm around her, and her hand in his, they 
turned toward home. 


CHAPTER VII 


JIMMY SEEKS ADVICE 

Jimmy threw down his remaining cards upon 
the table. 

“ The two spades are good,” he announced, 
“ and then I lead the diamond across to the ace. 
That’s game and rubber. And six tricks in no 
trumps is sixty, and little slam is twenty, and four 
aces are forty. Some hand, that was; I only wish 
you’d doubled.” 

Ed Hamlin, the broker, Jimmy’s partner in the 
rubber, jotted down the score; then turned to 
Billy Brainard, the laziest and most good-natured 
idler in the club, with the query, “ Shall we play 
one more, Billy, or are you ready to stop? ” 

Brainard drew a bulging pocket book from his 
coat. 

“ Mighty easy to guess why you ask me,” he 
amiably rejoined. “ I know I’m the goat, all 
right. But I’m satisfied, unless the gentleman 
across the table is keen for another.” 

Tom Harvey, millionaire, polo expert, and 
amateur rider of steeplechases, shook his head. 


94 


Putting It Over 


“ No, I never cared about getting rich quick,” 
he responded. “ I’ve made a day’s pay; that’s 
enough for me. Let’s settle, and quit.” 

Hamlin bent over the score sheet; balanced his 
accounts, and then announced, “ Billy’s right; 
he’s certainly the goat. His theory that he can 
play auction is going to cost him just seventy-five 
plunks. He owes Jimmy forty, Tom twenty-five, 
and a ten spot to me. I call that a beautiful 
illustration of the greatest good of the greatest 
number. You’re a public benefactor, Billy; it’s 
a pleasure to have met you.” 

Jimmy pocketed his winnings with relish, for 
he had underwritten the evening’s play with the 
money which he had won on the ball game, and 
one hundred and forty dollars “ velvet ” made a 
most satisfactory start in the contest for his uncle’s 
millions. Yet his auspicious beginning made him 
all the more eager to continue in the same pleasant 
path, and accordingly he ventured a question. 

“ Look here,” he observed, “ how would you 
fellows go to work to make some money? ” 

Brainard grinned. 

“ Humph,” he retorted, “ I shouldn’t think you 
needed to ask. Just start a hand of auction, with 
one sucker like me in the game. Don’t see how 
you can get it much easier than that.” 


I 


Jimmy Seeks Advice 95 

Jimmy laughed. 

“ No, I’m serious,” he replied. “ Suppose, for 
instance, a man had a thousand dollars, and was 
looking for something that would pay him a quick 
profit. I asked Dick Hollister about it, and he 
told me Sturgis Walton had a fresh water pearl 
proposition, somewhere out on the Mississippi, 
that was a corker. But that’s a long ways to go. 
Isn’t there something nearer home, that’s just 
as good? ” 

The response to his question surprised him, for 
his three companions answered him at almost the 
same instant of time, and in very nearly the same 
words. 

“ Oh, that’s easy,” cried Hamlin. 

“ A perfect cinch,” declared Brainard. 

“ I think I can tell you something,” was Har¬ 
vey’s less confident rejoinder. 

Jimmy heard them with delight. 

“ Bully for you! ” he exclaimed. “ You’re the 
most obliging crowd I ever struck. One at a 
time, please. What’s your money maker, Ed ? ” 

For answer, Hamlin fumbled in his pocket, drew 
forth a mimeographed sheet, and unfolding it, 
spread it before him on the table. 

“ In the last three weeks,” he impressively 
observed, “ I have made over a thousand dollars, 


96 


Putting It Over 


just following this fellow’s tips. He writes the 
best market letter in the world.” 

Harvey groaned. 

“ Oh rot,” he cried. “ No one can make money 
in stocks.” 

“ That’s right,” agreed Brainard. “ You ought 
to know better, Ed, than to follow one of those 
dopesters. They’re crooks, every mother’s son 
of them.” 

But Hamlin stood manfully to his guns. 

“ No, this fellow isn’t,” he maintained. “ He 
plays by a regular system. ‘ Put in close stops, 
and let your profits run ’ — that’s the principle 
he goes on. And I tell you it’s remarkable to see 
how he hits it —” 

“ Wait a minute,” interrupted Jimmy. “ This 
stock game is all Greek to me. What’s a close 
stop? ” 

“ Why, it’s like this,” Hamlin explained. “ Take 
conditions, for instance, just as they are to-day. 
This fellow says the whole market is going lower, 
and that United States Steel is the weakest stock 
on the list, and is going to have a ten point break. 
So if you have a thousand dollars, you sell a hun¬ 
dred shares of Steel, and wait for it to go down. 
When it’s slumped ten points, you cash in a thou¬ 
sand profit. That’s simple enough, isn’t it? ” 


Jimmy Seeks Advice 


97 


“ Sure, I can understand that/’ agreed Jimmy, 
“ but what about that stop you were speaking 
of? ” 

“ I was just coming to that,” Hamlin answered. 
“ Well assume, that for some reason or other, the 
big men suddenly change their plans, so that Steel, 
instead of going down, all at once starts to go up. 
That’s where you limit your loss by means of this 
stop. You have an order in, to buy back your 
hundred shares a point or two higher than the 
figure you sold at, so if the market does go against 
you, you only lose a hundred dollars or so. Then 
you have all the rest of your money left, to use 
again. You see the principle. You stand to win 
a thousand, but you can’t lose but a hundred. 
So the odds are really ten to one in your favor. 
Oh, it’s a wonderful scheme.” 

Jimmy pondered. Surely, the plan appeared 
plausible enough, but Harvey, the unbeliever, now 
asked dryly, “ If this chap has such a dead sure 
thing, Ed, what does he bother to write letters 
for? I should think he’d want to keep it to him¬ 
self; not give it away to outsiders.” 

“ Oh, I suppose he needs capital,” Hamlin 
answered, “ like every one else. You have to 
pay twenty dollars a month for the letter, so he 
must make money out of it. But it’s worth it, to 


98 


Putting It Over 


\ 


know which way the market’s going. I’ve in¬ 
vested twenty dollars, and made a thousand. 
That’s good enough, isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” struck in Brainard, “ if you can keep it 
up. But isn’t this fellow going to strike a snag 
some fine day, so you’ll lose all you’ve made, and 
probably more, into the bargain? How does he 
know what stocks are going to do, anyway? ” 

“ Why, he makes a regular study of it,” Ham¬ 
lin replied. “ He claims that the whole market is 
purely a matter of manipulation, and that he can 
always tell when the insiders are going to put it 
up, and when they’re going to put it down. And 
I stick to what I say. If Jimmy wants to make 
some money, let him sell a hundred Steel, at the 
market, and put in a two point stop. I’ll bet he 
makes a thousand dollars, inside a month.” 

Jimmy’s mouth watered as he listened. A 
thousand dollars, and he had only to risk two 
hundred. It surely seemed worth trying. 

“ And that isn’t all,” Hamlin went on. “ Once 
you get the market going with you, you can double 
up, if you choose, and make a barrel of money, 
with no extra risk. You drop in to-morrow morn¬ 
ing, Jimmy, and I’ll show you the whole system. 
Don’t mind what Tom says; he doesn’t know a 
good thing when he sees it.” 


Jimmy Seeks Advice 


99 


u Humph, don’t I know you f ” Harvey retorted. 
“ You keep away from him, Jimmy. He’ll get 
you into this, and before you’re through, you’ll 
lose your shirt. All he wants is his little commis¬ 
sion for bringing a new vie — I mean a new cus¬ 
tomer — into the office. Isn’t that right, Ed? ” 
He spoke banteringly, but Hamlin reddened 
at his words. 

“ Oh, we all have to live,” he rejoined, “ but 
you try it, Jimmy, and we’ll have the laugh on 
these fellows yet.” 

“ I’ll think it over,” Jimmy promised. “ I 
may drop around, in the morning, unless I find 
something that looks better. What do you say, 
Tom? ” he added, turning to Harvey. “ Have 
you a scheme to beat Ed’s, or haven’t you? ” 
Harvey nodded, “ Why, yes,” he answered, “of 
course I have a scheme that will beat Ed’s. His 
is no good, and I’ll tell you why. Nobody can 
start speculating, and keep nibbling at it, right 
along, and still expect to win. If the odds were 
even, you’d only come out square in the end, and 
as long as there’s always something against 
you — commissions in stocks, the zero at roulette, 
and so forth — you’re absolutely bound to lose. 
The only way to gamble, according to my ideas, 
is to wait until the right chance comes along. I 


> 

> 

> 


> 

* ) 

) 


> > * 


) 




100 


Putting It Over 


don’t know much about stocks, but I imagine 
that every three or four months there does come 
a time in the market when things are either very 
high or very low, and that given capital enough, 
a fellow might really make a little money. It’s 
the same principle with horse racing, which is my 
specialty. If you play every race, you’re sure to 
go broke; they’ll take it off you so quickly you 
can actually feel yourself catching cold. But if 
you’ll have patience, and are on the inside, why 
about every so often there comes a real oppor¬ 
tunity. And that’s when you want to go in, and 
play it, good and hard. Get the idea? ” 

Again Jimmy considered. This plan, also, 
seemed to possess merit, although it lacked the 
definiteness of Hamlin’s. So that presently he 
answered, a Yes, I see your point. But suppos¬ 
ing a fellow’s in a hurry. Your system is rather 
a slow one, Tom.” 

For some moments, Harvey remained silent. 

“ Oh well,” he at length replied, “ I don’t 
mind putting you on, only don’t let it go any 
further. I know something good in the racing 
line, right now, and you haven’t got to wait long, 
either. As a matter of fact, it comes off to-mor¬ 
row afternoon, so you’ll have no trouble in getting 
action for your money.” 

* 

» t 



Jimmy Seeks Advice 


101 


Jimmy heard him with delight. This was just 
the sort of opportunity that he had in mind. 
Brainard and Hamlin, too, he noticed, were listen¬ 
ing intently, for Harvey was admittedly an 
authority on racing matters, and a tip from him 
was not to be despised. 

“ Here’s the story,” he continued. “ The race 
is the Baychester Steeplechase Cup, with ten 
thousand added. It’s over the regular jockey 
club course, and a bay gelding named Sir Rupert 
is a topheavy favorite. There are six or eight 
other starters, and one of them, I have excellent 
reason to believe, has a corking good chance to 
win. 

Hamlin edged closer to the table. 

“ Say, this is getting interesting,” he observed. 
“ I was going to put some coin on Sir Rupert 
myself. The papers say it’s just an exercise 
gallop; that he’s going to walk in.” 

Harvey smiled. 

“ No, I hardly think he’ll do that,” he answered. 
“ I’m quite sure he’ll know he’s been in a race, 
before he’s through. The horse that I think can 
win — the horse, in fact, that I have backed rather 
heavily — is Thunderbolt —” 

But Hamlin interrupted him, his tone expressing 
the liveliest disappointment. 


102 


Putting It Over 


“ Thunderbolt! ” he cried. “ Why, the old nag 
was all in, two years ago, and hasn’t raced since. 
You must be dreaming, Tom.” 

Harvey shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Perhaps I am,” he replied, and somewhat 
nettled by Hamlin’s assumption of knowledge, 
said no more until Brainard cried, “ Oh, don’t 
mind Ed, Tom; he’s harmless. Tell us the rest 
of it, if you don’t mind.” 

“ Why, there’s not a great deal to tell,” Harvey 
responded. “ Thunderbolt was a sick horse, all 
through his last year on the track. A smart 
young vet got hold of him, found out what the 
trouble was, and cured him. He’s been saved for a 
year, for just such a chance as this. His owner is 
confident; I’ve seen a private trial; and I’m back¬ 
ing him. That’s about all. I think he’ll win.” 

There was something so convincing in his 
manner that it seemed to Jimmy as if this were his 
ideal opportunity to settle the contest with Harold, 
once and for all. 

“ What are the odds? ” he asked. 

“ Seven to one against,” Harvey answered. 
“ Of course, three months ago, you could get 
almost anything you pleased, but the owner’s, 
slapped on so much money that the price has been 
forced down. Still, it’s a good bet, at that.” 


Jimmy Seeks Advice 


103 


“ By Jove,” cried Jimmy, “it sounds good — 
awfully good. I believe I’ll try it.” Then, sud¬ 
denly recollecting Brainard, he asked, “ How 
about you, Bill? Have you a short cut to wealth, 
too? ” 

Brainard nodded. 

“ I’ve always had a theory of my own,” he 
answered, “ about gambling. And it’s based on 
the fact that this is an age of specialists. A man 
can’t be an all-around performer, these days. 
If he wants to have any chance at all, he’s got to 
pick out something, and thoroughly master it. 
That’s pretty nearly so, isn’t it? ” 

There was a general murmur of assent. 

“ Well then,” Brainard continued, “ if you’re 
going in to make money — going in for blood, I 
mean —” 

He paused a moment, then suddenly digressed, 
“ Say, that reminds me. Did you hear the story 
about the shoemaker who was tried for bigamy?” 

They shook their heads. 

Brainard grinned. 

“Not much of a story,” he went on, “ but it 
exactly illustrates my point. A shoemaker was 
convicted of having two wives, but when the 
case came up in court, the judge, to everyone’s 
surprise, ruled that the second marriage was legal, 


104 


Putting It Over 


and that the first was void. The lawyer for the 
first wife made an eloquent protest —contrary 
to precedent, and all that — but the judge said 
‘No; man was a shoemaker, and a shoemaker 
must stick to his last.’ ” 

There was a groan from his hearers. 

“ That,” said Harvey solemnly, “ is positively 
the worst story I ever heard told in this club. 
A man could be suspended for that.” 

“I admit it’s bad,” agreed Brainard cheerfully, 
“ but as I say, I needed it for an illustration. 
For if a man’s going to bet, he must choose some¬ 
thing on which he’s an authority. That’s why 
I’ve no use for the stock market. The only men 
who are authorities on that aren’t talking for 
publication, and you and I can’t do anything but 
swell their bank accounts for them. On the other 
hand, when it comes to Tom betting on steeple¬ 
chases, I approve of that, because he’s more or 
less on the inside. And if I were in Jimmy’s place, 
I’d pick out base ball, because everyone admits 
that he knows that from A to Z. For instance, 
the New York Yankees play Detroit to-morrow, 
so if I were Jimmy I should sit down and figure 
out all the probabilities and the possibilities, and 
then I’d feel that I was betting my money on some¬ 
thing I knew about. That would be my idea, but 


Jimmy Seeks Advice 


105 


perhaps it isn’t worth a damn. I notice that my 
ideas never do seem to amount to much, any¬ 
way.” 

But Jimmy could see merit in this plan, also. 

“ Sounds fine,” he exclaimed. “ Sounds mighty 
fine. I believe it would work, especially if I com¬ 
bined your theories with Tom’s, and didn’t try to 
play every game. I’m much obliged to you all, 
I’m sure. I didn’t know that making money was 
such an easy job.” 

Harvey laughed, as he rose to go. 

“ Don’t forget one thing, Jimmy,” he cautioned. 
“ Theory is very different from practice. There 
isn’t a man alive who can’t make his million on 
paper, but when it comes to real life, and real 
money, it’s quite another proposition. So don’t 
take all we’ve said too seriously. But I do believe 
that Thunderbolt is a good bet.” 

“ And I,” declared Hamlin, as he too made 
ready to depart, “ honestly think you can make 
money selling Steel.” 

“ And for my part,” added Brainard, “ I advise 
you to stick to the ball games. But whatever you 
do, they’ll finally get you; you’re bound to be 
stung. Good night, and the Lord be with you; 
for I have an impression that you’re going to 
need him.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING 

On the following morning, Jimmy slept peace¬ 
fully until nearly nine o’clock; then, over a lei¬ 
surely breakfast, proceeded to outline his program 
for the day. 

He had carefully pondered, since arising, the 
advice to which he had listened, on the evening 
before, and all of the plans submitted to him 
seemed, upon reflection, to be well worth a trial. 
As Brainard had suggested, he devoted much 
thought to the problem of the ball game, studying 
individual averages, the records of the pitchers, 
the standing of the teams and numerous minor 
matters, and finally arriving at the conclusion 
that the Yankees were due to win; while with 
regard to his other speculations, he decided to take 
Harvey’s tip on the horse race, and to test the cor¬ 
rectness of Hamlin’s market methods by going 
short of United States Steel. 

To reconcile these various diversions with his 
arrangements for spending the day with Dorothy 
was now his only difficulty, and for a time it 


107 


The Proof of the Pudding 

seemed to be an insuperable one; but on reading 
the morning papers, he discovered that a “ double 
header ” was to take place at the ball grounds, with 
the first game scheduled for half past one, while the 
steeplechase was to be run off at four, and Doro¬ 
thy’s train did not leave until six. 

“ What a cinch,” he reflected. “ Fits together 
like a picture puzzle. We’ll be a trifle late for the 
ball game, but we’ll see the last half of it, anyway; 
then we’ll take a taxi to the track, and watch the 
ponies; then back to the station in time to catch 
her train. Fine and dandy. Not an idle moment 
anywhere.” 

But the morning also, or rather what was left 
of it, promised to be a busy one, as well. Dorothy, 
of course, was first in his thoughts; flowers and 
candy, a table for two on the ladies’ side of the 
club; tickets for the ball game and for the races; 
all these matters must be attended to without 
delay. Then, next in order, he must place his bet 
on Thunderbolt, and on the Yankees, and finally, 
must look up Ed Hamlin, and sell a hundred shares 
of Steel. 

“ Oh you hectic day,” Jimmy reflected, and to a 
youth of his tastes and temperament, a more 
pleasurable one could hardly have been devised. 
To have Dorothy to himself for five long, blissful 


108 


Putting It Over 


hours, and to have, so to speak, a running accom¬ 
paniment of stocks, horses and ball players — 
the prospect was surely one of unclouded joy. 

“ Oh you happy times,” Jimmy murmured 
again, “ Poor old Harold. He means first rate, 
but he hasn’t the remotest idea of how to enjoy 
himself.” 

He had finished his breakfast, by this time, but 
still sat at the table, thoughtfully outlining the 
future to himself. If his three bets should all 
happen to win for him, he would be more than 
twenty-five hundred dollars to the good. That 
would make him so sure of defeating Harold that 
he could take the next train west, spend three 
months in getting engaged to Dorothy, then come 
home and claim the three millions, get married, 
and then — 

“ Anything else, sir? ” sounded the waiter’s 
voice at his elbow, and with a start, he awoke from 
his reverie. 

“ No, nothing else just now, thanks,” he 
answered, and forthwith departed to turn his 
glowing visions into actual realities. 

Noon overtook him before he had wholly com¬ 
pleted his labors. Yet by that time he had 
ordered the lunch, and despatched his gifts to 
Dorothy upon their way, while the tickets for the 


109 


The Proof of the Pudding 

races and the ball game were reposing in his 
pocket, together with two innocent looking slips 
of paper, one of which entitled him to claim three 
hundred dollars if the Yankees defeated Detroit, 
while the other represented fourteen hundred, if 
Thunderbolt won the Baychester Cup. 

Only the stock market now remained to be 
visited, and since so much of the morning was 
already gone, he wasted no time in proceeding, 
as rapidly as possible, to the office where Ed 
Hamlin plied his nefarious trade. 

His first impression, as he entered, was of bustle 
and activity. A “ customer’s man,” standing at 
the ticker, was calling out the quotations in a loud 
voice, while the board boys were hastily posting 
the figures on the stock board in the rear of the 
room. Customers, seated, standing, or moving 
about, watched the changes in their speculative 
favorites, or talked to each other in low-voiced, 
mysterious tones. A telegrapher, from his seat in 
his “cage,” handed out, at intervals, typewritten 
messages, from members of the firm, predicting 
the future course of the market. Hamlin himself, 
passing from customer to customer, was convers¬ 
ing earnestly with each in turn. And presently, 
spying Jimmy, he came hurrying over to greet him. 

“ What did I tell you? ” he triumphantly 


110 


Putting It Over 


exclaimed. “ The whole market is off. Steel’s down 
to one hundred and six. How was that for a tip?” 

Before Jimmy could answer him, an office boy 
thrust a slip of paper into Hamlin’s hand. He 
read it, and passed it on to his friend. 

“ There,” he observed, “ is the whole situation 
in a nutshell. Very ably summarized, upon my 
word.” 

Jimmy read with interest. 

“ Whole market acts heavy,” so the despatch 
ran. “ Rumors that Steel directors will pass 
dividend. Would sell it here, and on any rally.” 

“ Well,” Hamlin queried, “ what do you say? 
Better put out a hundred, hadn’t you, before the 
market breaks. It’s sure money.” 

“ All right,” Jimmy assented. “ Go ahead. 
Here’s the coin,” ajid a moment later, he found 
himself “ short ” of one hundred Steel, at one 
hundred and six and a quarter, subject to an 
order to buy it back in case it advanced to one 
hundred and eight. 

This accomplished, Hamlin abruptly left him, 
in search of further business, for the summer had 
been a dull one in the brokerage line. 

“ I hope you’ll make a lot of money,” he said, 
as he departed. “ I think we’re in right, this 
time. You’ll be glad you sold, I’m sure.” 


Ill 


The Proof of the Pudding 

Jimmy, consulting his watch, found that he 
still had a few moments to spare, and taking his 
seat in one of the easy chairs, began watching the 
quotations on the board. The fact that he had 
sold the stock, he discovered, made an immense 
difference in his point of view. Always, before 
this, he had read about the market, as he did of 
a hundred other things, in a mildly curious fash¬ 
ion, pitying the bulls when it declined, and com¬ 
miserating the bears when it advanced. But now 
the ups and downs of Steel were matters directly 
concerning him, and it was with the keenest joy 
that he suddenly heard the irian at the ticker 
exclaim, “ A thousand U. S. at one hundred and 
five and three-quarters; five hundred at five- 
eighths; another thousand ait a half.” 

Immediately, a sort of blind fury possessed him. 
He forgot that the manufacture of steel was a great 
national industry; he forgot that thousands 
depended on it for their daily bread; he forgot 
pride in America, and wishes for her prosperity. 
He was a gambler, and he was “ short ” of Steel. 
He would have liked to see it go down to nothing, 
if such a thing were possible. 

“ Soak it to ’em,” he murmured, under his 
breath; “ give it to ’em good.” 

Presently, however, the d;rive ceased. Steel 


112 


Putting It Over 


came back to one hundred and six, then went to a 
quarter, then to three-eighths. Instantly, Jimmy 
was conscious of a great sense of injustice. 

“ It’s got no business to be going up / 7 he mut¬ 
tered, and the knowledge that he was powerless 
to prevent it filled him with impotent rage. Nor 
dit it stop at the point where he had sold it, but 
presently the whole market rallied, and went 
bounding upward at a great rate. Steel reached 
one hundred and seven, and Jimmy hastily sought 
out Hamlin. 

“ Look here / 7 he said, “ I thought you told me 
the blamed stuff was going down . 77 

“ Oh, it is / 7 Hamlin responded. “ This is 
nothing. Only a rally in a bear market; that 7 s 
all . 77 

Jimmy looked puzzled. 

“ But if they are going to pass the dividend / 7 
he asked, “ why on earth should it go up? 77 

Hamlin shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Just manipulation , 77 he somewhat vaguely 
answered. “ Bull pools and bear pools, you 
know. Market has probably got a little bit 
oversold . 77 

“ And I , 77 philosophized Jimmy, “ am appar¬ 
ently one of the guys who helped oversell it . 77 

“ Certainly looks so, just this minute / 7 Hamlin 


113 


The Proof of the Pudding 

cheerfully answered, “ but don’t worry. Your 
stop is still a point away, and even if they get you, 
it’s only a two hundred dollar loss. Now you can 
begin to see the beauty of the system.” 

Jimmy felt hugely aggrieved. 

“ But I thought,” he complained, “ that you 
said this was a sure thing.” 

“ Oh, nothing’s absolutely sure,” responded 
Hamlin. “ But don’t get scared before you’re 
hurt. This won’t last.” 

It seemed, indeed, that he spoke the truth, for 
before long the rally subsided, and when it became 
time for Jimmy to leave, Steel was back again at 
the point where he had sold it. Yet he was 
vexed with himself for having taken the venture. 
Speculating in stocks was not the attractive 
pastime he had imagined it to be. He could feel 
that it had made him nervous and irritable, and 
even though his appointment with Dorothy was 
at a quarter to one, he found himself lingering 
until the last possible moment, as though the 
clicking, whirring tickers had actually hypnotized 
him. 

Once out in the open air, however, the whole 
episode seemed dream-like and unreal. 

“ Queer sensation,” he reflected; “ I should 
imagine it was something like taking opium. I 


114 


Putting It Over 


wish I’d never gone there; I have an idea I’m 
going to lose money . 77 

But a moment or two later, as Dorothy came 
down the steps to meet him, his peace of mind was 
restored, and in the joy of seeing her, all his cares 
and anxieties were at once forgotten. 

As they began their luncheon, he outlined, with 
some timidity, his plans for the afternoon. 

“ I know you like base ball , 77 he said, “ so I 
thought we might go to see a professional game. 
The Tigers and the Yankees play to-day . 77 

“ That 7 s splendid , 77 she assured him. “ You 
couldn’t have chosen anything I 7 d enjoy more . 77 

His face cleared. 

“ I was afraid, afterward , 77 he confessed, “ that 
you might have liked a concert, or a matinee . 77 

“ On a day like this , 77 she cried. “ No, indeed. 
There’s plenty of time for concerts in winter; this 
is the weather to be out of doors . 77 

Jimmy nodded happily. 

“ Isn’t it fine to have the same tastes? 77 he 
ingenuously observed. 

She smiled divinely. 

“ It’s simply adorable,” she returned, half in 
jest, but half in earnest also, and although he 
managed to curb his tongue, his eyes must have 
spoken for him, for she blushed. 


The Proof of the Pudding 


115 


“ And after that,” he asked, “ do you think 
you’d care for a steeplechase? They race to-day 
for the Bay Chester Cup.” 

Again it appeared that he had guessed correctly. 

“ There is only one thing in the world,” she 
declared, “that I’d leave a ball game for, and that 
is a horse race. You couldn’t have planned a 
more beautiful afternoon. Only,” she added, 
“ I’m afraid it will be a very expensive one.” 

Jimmy grinned, for the words, to him, pos¬ 
sessed a distinct double meaning. 

“ Oh, it’s not so bad,” he answered, “ and any¬ 
way, if I’m not going to see you again for three 
months, I ought to have one good day, to remem¬ 
ber you by.” 

“ I do hope you can come,” she said frankly. 
“ Have you heard anything from your business 
affairs? ” 

“ Nothing definite, yet,” he responded. “ But 
I ought to know something by six to-night. And 
if I can’t go,” he added, “ I’ve made up my mind 
to wreck your train. I can’t have you leaving me 
like this.” 

“ We’ll hope you won’t have to do that,” she 
answered, “ and you’re very kind to take so much 
trouble about to-day.” 

“ Kind? ” he echoed. “ Oh, Good Lord! ” 


116 


Putting It Over 


And his explosive brevity was more eloquent than 
further speech, for as her eyes met his, she blushed 
again, but only with happiness. 

“ And now,” he said, “ I suppose we really 
ought to start for the ball grounds. We shall have 
just time to see the last half of the game.” 

Twenty minutes later, they were walking down 
the long aisle in the middle of the grandstand, and 
Dorothy took her seat in their box with an exclama¬ 
tion of delight. The scene, indeed, was distinctly 
an inspiriting one. The soft green of the field, the 
brown of the diamond, the white foul lines, the 
uniforms of the players, the crowds in the grand¬ 
stand and the bleachers — altogether there was 
something so neat, so orderly, so precise, about the 
whole affair, that with the added glory of the 
perfect June afternoon, it was small wonder that 
Dorothy was sufficiently charmed by the spectacle 
itself, without a thought as to who was winning, 
and who was losing, the game. 

But Jimmy, with more practical matters claim¬ 
ing his attention, glanced hastily at the score 
board, and discovered, to his disgust, that five 
innings had been played, and that Detroit was 
leading, by four runs to two. 

“ Stung! ” he muttered, under his breath, and 
the business of speculation now seemed to him such 



The Proof of the Pudding 117 

an unpleasant and unremunerative one that his 
spirits steadily declined until in the “ lucky 
seventh ” inning, the Yankees, through a com¬ 
bination of hits, errors and bases on balls, con¬ 
trived to score three runs, and for the first time 
assumed the lead. 

As the third man crossed the plate, Jimmy, 
together with a few thousand other lunatics, 
leaped to his feet, and proceeded to give vent to 
eloquent exclamations of enthusiasm and joy. 

“ Hi! Yi! Yi! ” he yelled. “ Yip! Yip! 
That’s the stuff! Soak it to ’em, boys! Hi! 
Yi! Yi! ” 

Dorothy regarded him with smiling astonish¬ 
ment. 

“ You’re tremendously loyal, aren’t you? ” she 
asked, as Jimmy resumed his seat. “ I didn’t 
realize you cared so much about seeing the home 
team win.” 

Jimmy’s eyes were bright with excitement. 
His cheeks were scarlet. 

“ Loyal? ” he echoed. “ I should say I was. 
I’m the loyalest little guy on the grounds. Gee, 
but I want to see them pull off this game.” 

It seemed, indeed, as though his desire was to be 
granted, for the eighth inning passed, with no 
score on either side, and in the first of the ninth, 


118 


Putting It Over 


two Detroit batsmen were retired in order, and the 
crowd began to leave the grounds. 

Jimmy was jubilant. 

“ All over but the shouting,” he exclaimed, but 
added, the next instant, “ Ah, that’s too bad,” 
for the third man up was hit in the arm by a 
pitched ball, and ran gaily down to first. A 
scratch infield single followed, and as Jimmy saw 
the next batter step to the plate, he groaned, for 
this “ old-timer ” was a player of renown. 

“ Oh Lord! ” ejaculated Jimmy. “ Cutshaw. 
He’s mighty apt to make a hit, and if he does, then 
Ty Cobb is up. Things don’t look quite so rosy, 
after all.” 

His fears, as far as Cutshaw was concerned, 
were amply justified, for the veteran sent the ball 
spinning between first and second, the bases were 
filled, and Cobb, who had been eagerly awaiting 
his turn, tossed away two of the three bats he 
had been swinging, and took up his stand at the 
plate. 

There was something ominous in his attitude. 
His feet were close together, his lithe, active 
figure was relaxed, yet expectant, he swung his bat 
easily in his hands, and his eyes were fixed steadily 
upon the pitcher. 

“ Oh Jimmy, I’m afraid of him,” cried Dorothy 


119 


The Proof of the Pudding 

apprehensively. “ He looks just as if he were 
going to make a hit.” 

“ Well, he won’t,” Jimmy answered, with the 
courage of desperation, “ He’s had some trouble 
with his eyes, the papers say. It’s affecting his 
batting terribly. He only hit for three fifty, last 
week.” 

And immediately Dorothy was seized with 
compassion. 

“ Oh, that’s too bad,” she cried impulsively. 
“ The poor fellow. I don’t think it’s fair.” 

But her sympathy, as it proved, was quite un¬ 
called for, for the first ball which came sailing over 
the plate commended itself to the critical taste of 
Mr. Cobb, and though ordinarily a “ chop, push 
and pull ” hitter, he now indulged himself in the 
luxury of a full, healthy swing. 

Crack! And the ball, soaring higher and higher 
in its flight, sped away toward the extreme north¬ 
east corner of the park, while the players in left 
and centre field, turning simultaneously, furnished 
a beautiful exhibition of two athletes competing 
in a desperate hundred yards dash. Jimmy 
watched them dismally, but Dorothy’s eyes were 
fixed on the infield, where three figures were jog¬ 
ging placidly toward the plate, while behind them 
the flying Cobb raced onward like a whirlwind. 


120 


Putting It Over 


The three runs were safely scored, and Cobb 
himself had rounded third, and was half way 
home, when the ball, relayed by the centre fielder, 
arrived in the short stop’s hands. There was a 
hasty throw to the plate, the famous “ fallaway ” 
slide, a cloud of dust, and then the umpire’s hands 
spread low to the ground. Four runs, and the 
crowd yelled itself hoarse with delight, friend and 
foe uniting in paying tribute to the most dashing 
and spectacular figure in the history of the na¬ 
tional game. 

“ Oh you Tyrus! ” 

“ Good boy, Ty! ” 

“ Oh you Georgia Peach! ” 

Dorothy was filled with admiration. 

“ Wasn’t it splendid! ” she cried. “ I never saw 
anything like it.” But suddenly noticing Jimmy’s 
expression of gloom, she commiserated, “ Oh, I 
forgot. You want the Yankees to win. Well, 
don’t be discouraged. Perhaps they’ll make a 
lot of runs, too.” 

But Jimmy was not to be comforted, for he knew 
the psychology of base ball only too well; knew 
that the “ break ” had come and was over with; 
and that the game, in the technical sporting 
phrase, was “ on ice ” for the visitors. And so the 
sequel proved, for the discouraged Yankees went 


The Proof of the Pudding 121 

meekly out in one, two, three order, and two 
hundred dollars of Jimmy’s money had vanished, 
never to return. 

As they left the grounds, he found it hard to 
maintain his customary good humor, for after 
believing that his wager was practically won, the 
shock of losing it was correspondingly harder to 
bear. Yet Dorothy, unaware of his distress, 
continued to chat gaily of the game and its inci¬ 
dents, so that out of mere politeness he was forced 
to listen, and to answer her many questions, as 
best he might, until presently she propounded a 
query which proved too much for him. 

“ Jimmy,” she said, as they entered the motor 
which was to take them to the track, “ there’s 
just one other thing I’d like to know.” 

“ Yes,” he assented, “ and what is that? ” 

“ It’s about Mr. Cobb,” she answered. “ If 
his eyesight hadn’t been troubling him, I wonder 
how far that ball really would have gone.” 

Which problem, Jimmy, being but human, did 
not attempt to solve, but after one muttered 
exclamation, more profane than proper, at once 
plunged headlong into a discussion of the weather, 
and the prospects of rain before night. 

And now the whirling wheels of the taxi bore 
them steadily onward, out from the city, past 


122 


Putting It Over 


meadow and valley and stream, until, less than an 
hour from their departure, they found themselves 
safely ensconced in their seats at the park. 

The contrast between the ball grounds and the 
race track was complete. There they had seen 
the democracy of sport; here they viewed its 
aristocracy. A shouting, devil-may-care multi¬ 
tude was replaced by spectators whose attitude 
seemed to be merely one of polite acquiescence 
in the afternoon’s proceedings. Then they had 
been surrounded by an underdressed, shirt¬ 
sleeved throng; now they gazed upon jewels and 
costumes that might have graced a first night at 
the opera. Yet they had little time to spend in 
surveying those around them, for the next race on 
the program was the Baychester Cup, and pres¬ 
ently the nine contestants emerged from the 
paddock, and filed slowly past the judge’s stand. 
Sir Rupert, a bright bay, his jockey gorgeous in 
black and gold, looked every inch the favorite he 
was, while Thunderbolt, a dark chestnut, was 
equally easy to distinguish, by his rider’s crimson 
jacket and white sleeves. In the other seven, 
Jimmy felt only a passing interest, and although 
he knew little about horses, he had a general 
impression that they scarcely measured up to the 
standard of the favorite. 


The Proof of the Pudding 


123 


“ Sir Rupert/’ he murmured to himself, “ seems 
to have the class. I believe I’m in for another 
licking. I wonder how they look to Dorothy.” 

He turned to her, with the superstition of the 
gambler, seeking a sign. 

“ Pick a winner,” he said, and she glanced 
critically over the field before she answered, 
“ The one with the red jacket; he’s much the 
handsomest.” 

“ Good for you,” cried Jimmy. “ I like that 
one myself. Let’s root for him, and see if he 
won’t win.” 

The start was on the further side of the enclo¬ 
sure, and the horses, lined up at the post, appeared 
to be of the size of the Noah’s ark animals of 
childhood days. Presently a flag dropped, a 
cloud of shimmering dust rose on the air, and the 
race had begun. 

According to Jimmy’s ideas of steeplechasing, 
gleaned, for the most part, from fiction, the 
favorite was supposed to hold back until about 
three quarters of the distance had been covered, 
and then to come through with a rush, and win, 
and this race started with Sir Rupert in fourth 
position, as if it were going to prove no exception 
to the conventional rule. But after the first two 
jumps, it seemed as though the pace were too slow 


124 


Putting It Over 


to suit his jockey, for all at once the bay shot out 
from the bunch, and began drawing steadily away 
from the rest. 

“ Now then,” thought Jimmy, with a sinking 
heart, “ if old Thunderbolt doesn’t get busy, and 
do something pretty quick, I’m going to be another 
two hundred to the bad.” 

But to his relief, the chestnut almost imme¬ 
diately began to move up, and with each successive 
obstacle, the two leaders drew further and further 
away from the field. 

As they passed the stand, Jimmy watched them 
eagerly, and for the first time hope entered into his 
heart, for Thunderbolt seemed to be moving much 
more easily than his rival; Sir Rupert’s stride 
appeared to be shortening, and while the favorite 
took the jump in front of them with little to spare, 
Thunderbolt flew it like a bird. 

On they sped, and half way around the track 
again, until a patch of woods hid them momen¬ 
tarily from sight, with Sir Rupert the leader by 
perhaps a dozen lengths. Here, Jimmy felt, was 
the critical point in the contest, for after they 
emerged again into sight, there remained only two 
hurdles, the water jump, and the run in to the 
finish. With clenched hands, he waited, until 
suddenly he saw Sir Rupert burst into view, but 


The Proof of the Pudding 


125 


— joy of joys — with the chestnut not more than 
three lengths behind. At the next jump, the 
space between them remained the same, for Sir 
Rupert was being superbly ridden, but before they 
had come to the succeeding obstacle, they were 
almost on even terms, and as they neared the 
water jump, inevitably as Fate itself, the chestnut 
drew away — one length — two — three to the 
good — 

Jimmy was on his feet, his eyes wild, shrieking, 
with the rest, “ Thunderbolt! Thunderbolt! Come 
on! Come on! ” 

There remained only the water j ump. And then, 
so quickly that it was all over in a moment, 
whether it was the old injury, or a mistake of the 
jockey, or a slip in taking off for the jump, they 
could not tell, but the chestnut, for the first time 
that day, rose heavily at the barrier, and the next 
instant had fallen, half in the water, half on the 
turf, while Sir Rupert, clearing the jump by 
inches, galloped up the straight run in, alone. 

Like a man in a dream, Jimmy sat watching a 
dripping, bedraggled jockey leading his limping 
mount away, and heard Dorothy's voice exclaim¬ 
ing, “ Oh, the poor thing! What a pity! He tried 
so hard to win! ” 

Jimmy made no answer. The double defeat 


126 


Putting It Over 


/ 


was hard to endure, and his heart was heavy within 
him, yet for pride’s sake, he gave no sign, and made 
a determined effort to appear even more cheerful 
than usual as the flying taxi bore them, all too 
swiftly, back to the station and the waiting train. 

Dorothy, silent as the moment of departure 
actually drew near, sighed as she realized that their 
day was over. 

“ You’ve given me a perfect afternoon,” she 
said. “ I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. But 
what do you think about coming to see me? You 
said you thought you might know before I left.” 

For answer, Jimmy halted the motor at the 
next corner, hailed a newsboy, and bought the 
evening papers. His confidence in his good for¬ 
tune as a gambler was at a low ebb, but his third 
chance still remained to him, and he turned the 
pages hurriedly until he reached the columns 
which recorded the ups and downs in stocks. 

His first glance told him more than he cared to 
know. 

“ Broad, buoyant market,” ran the headlines. 
“ Steel reaches one hundred and nine. Shorts are 
severely squeezed.” 

Since this was no time fitly to express his feel¬ 
ings, J immy remained silent until he had mastered 
himself sufficiently to observe, “ Dorothy dear, 


The Proof of the Pudding 127 

I’m awfully sorry, but I can’t possibly come; at 
least, not for some time.” 

And as the memory of the fresh water pearls 
came back to him, he added, “ Of course, the 
minute I find I can leave, I’ll take the next train. 
And I’ll write as often as I can. But I may have 
to go to a place where mails are scarce, so I’ll 
tell you what I’ll do, to make everything safe.” 

He scribbled Mr. Ellison’s name and address on 
a sheet of paper. 

“There,” he added, “if I don’t write you for a while, 
get in touch with him. He’ll know where I am.” 

Her face betrayed her feelings. 

“ Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. 

“ You’re not half as sorry,” he grimly answered, 
“ as I am. But this is something that can’t be 
helped.” 

And these were really their last words together, 
for there followed the bustle and confusion of the 
crowded station, Aunt Martha’s cordial, “ I hope 
you’ll come to see us, young man,” and then, 
inexorably, the starting of the train. 

Jimmy caught one farewell glimpse of Dorothy’s 
face pressed close against the window; she put 
her hand to her lips and threw him a kiss; and the 
next moment he was standing on the deserted 
platform, disconsolate and alone. 


CHAPTER IX 


MEN HAVE THEIR EXITS 

It was eight o’clock in the evening, on the day 
of Dorothy’s departure. Jimmy, feeling fright¬ 
fully forsaken and forlorn, had dined alone at the 
club, and now sat in a corner, in the seclusion of 
the smoking room, mournfully reviewing the mis¬ 
fortunes of the afternoon. 

His meditations, though occasionally lightened 
by random memories of Dorothy, on the whole 
could scarcely have been more morose, for as far 
as his contest with Harold was concerned, the day 
had admittedly been a disastrous one. The bal¬ 
ancing of his books was an easy task; one hundred 
and forty dollars profit, six hundred dollars loss. 
Without question, at this particular moment, 
Harold was ahead of him, and Jimmy, having 
participated in the pleasures of plunging in haste, 
now realized the bitterness of having to repent at 
leisure. 

Presently, however, he was aroused from his 
reverie by the entrance of Dick Hollister, peren¬ 
nial patron of the club and the very embodiment 


Men Have Their Exits 


129 


of stalwart good humor. At once, he crossed the 
room to where Jimmy was sitting, and stood look¬ 
ing quizzically down at him. 

“ Wherefore, James,” he queried, “ the giddy 
grouch? Why the funereal gloom? ” 

Jimmy, irritated with himself for thus allowing 
his feelings to show so plainly in his face, made a 
rather futile attempt at a smile. 

“ Oh, it’s nothing,” he answered. Then, his 
mind still on his troubles, made haste to add, 
“ Except that I’m awfully keen to make some 
money. Do you really think there’s anything in 
that scheme of Walton’s? ” 

Hollister pulled up a chair, and sat down. 

“ Of course I don’t know anything about it,” 
he answered, “ but Walton’s no fool, and he’s 
crazy about the thing. Says it’s the finest propo¬ 
sition he ever struck. He’s anxious to get after 
it, too. All he wants now is to find one other 
fellow, with a little capital, and then he’s ready to 
start, right away. You’d better talk to him.” 

Jimmy, being a born gambler, felt hope revive. 

“I’d like to,” he answered. “ Wonder where 
I could find him.” 

Hollister grinned. 

“ That’s easy enough,” he rejoined. “ You 
can see him to-night, if you want to.” 


130 Putting It Over 

“ That suits me/’ Jimmy responded. “ Where 
do I go? ” 

“ You know the show/’ Hollister explained, 
“ that’s running at the Coronial Theatre. ‘ The 
Majesty of the Law/ or some such name.” 

Jimmy nodded. 

“ Yes, I’ve seen it,” he answered. “ It’s pretty 
good, too. Something doing every minute.” 

“ Well,” Hollister continued, “ Walton is aw¬ 
fully gone on a little girl in the chorus. I can’t 
remember her name — Amy something or other. 
So he’s behind the scenes, almost every night, and 
I’ll tell you what we can do. I’m going to sail 
to-morrow morning — going abroad for all sum¬ 
mer — but I’ve nothing on for this evening, and if 
you say so, we’ll drop in there, and take a look 
for him.” 

“ Good scheme,” Jimmy agreed, “ but can we 
get by? Aren’t they pretty strict about this stage 
door business? ” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” Hollister assured him. 
“ Don’t you remember the mob scene in the last 
act? They need a big crowd to make that go. 
So we’ll ring in as supers. All you have to do is to 
step on the stage with the rest of the gang, and let 
out a yell or two. There’s nothing to it. And 
unless I’m greatly mistaken, we’ll surely find 


Men Have Their Exits 


131 


Walton there, and you can ask him all the ques¬ 
tions you please.’’ 

Accordingly, they summoned a taxi, and de¬ 
parted for the theatre, but at the stage door they 
encountered unexpected opposition, for it so 
happened that the young ladies in “ The Majesty 
of the Law ” were possessed of unusual attrac¬ 
tions, and accordingly the supply of young men 
who were nightly willing to take part in the mob 
scene was greatly in excess of the number required 
by the management. These conditions were 
gruffly explained to them by a surly door man, who 
insisted that he had received positive orders to 
admit no more supers for that evening, until 
Hollister, bent on carrying out his plans, after 
vainly trying threats, argument, and persuasion, 
at length resorted to bribery and corruption, 
whereupon the doorkeeper’s memory became 
suddenly refreshed, and they were promptly 
admitted. 

In a dingy, crowded room, among a throng of 
dressed, half dressed, and undressed companions, 
a weary, harassed little man gave them simple and 
concise directions, furnished them with some 
villainous looking clothes, and indicated two flimsy 
looking lockers, where they might deposit their 
own garments for the evening. Accordingly, 


132 


Putting It Over 


though not without some misgivings, they made 
the requisite change of costume, and Jimmy, 
remembering, at the last moment, the size of the 
“ roll ” he was carrying, took the precaution of 
transferring it to the inner pocket of his stage coat. 
These preliminaries out of the way, they felt 
ready for their entrance, and in the meantime had 
ample leisure to look about them. 

“ Let’s find Walton,” Jimmy suggested, but 
Hollister, now that he had donned the garments of 
a striker, had centred his attention on the play. 

“ Oh, lots of time for that,” he rejoined; “ but 
say, Jimmy, I’ve got it in for that chap at the door. 
Wasn’t he a roughneck, though? I’d like to get 
square with him. Wonder if there isn’t some way 
to do it.” 

Pondering over this weighty problem in silence, 
he presently broke forth again, u Look, Jimmy, 
this would be an awfully funny stunt. The mob 
scene at the end of the last act is a corker, you 
know; that’s where the soldiers beat the stuffing 
out of the strikers. Now suppose we pass the 
word around to the gang, and instead of letting 
ourselves be licked, we’ll scrap like the devil, and 
knock the old soldiers cockerside wockamus. 
Wouldn’t that be hot stuff? Wouldn’t that put 
the majesty of the law on the blink?” 


Men Have Their Exits 


133 


Jimmy laughed. 

“ It sure would/' he assented, “ but for Heaven's 
sake, don't try it. We'd get arrested. And 
don't forget that we're here on business. This 
suping scheme is all right, in its way, but what we 
really came for was to find Walton." 

“ That's right," Hollister assented. “ We’ll 
look for him now," but in spite of their search, 
they were unable to discover any trace of their 
friend. 

“ Well, don't you care," Hollister observed. 
“ Wait till the mill scene in the second act. That’s 
where we go on for the first time. And when we 
come off, we’ll have a chance to talk with the girls, 
and we'll find out whether he’ll be around to-night 
or not. I'll introduce you to some peaches, too," 
he added, “ and then your evening won't be 
wasted." 

But Jimmy, with Dorothy’s image in his mind, 
had small desire to meet any of the ladies of the 
stage. 

“ Don't bother about that," he replied. “ Just 
to find Walton; that's all I’m after. But I’m 
afraid we're on the wrong track." 

“ Oh no, he'll be here," Hollister maintained. 
“ Sure to be. There’s the signal for the mill 
scene now. All we have to do is to stand around 


134 


Putting It Over 


and give a hoarse roar of rage at the proper times. 
Come on, now. Stick to me.” 

An instant later, Jimmy found himself standing 
in the rear of the stage, one of a motley crowd of 
mill operatives, doomed to listen to the harangue 
of the mill owner, who was about to make a general 
cut in wages, despite the fact that they were all 
starving, and that a hard winter was coming on. 
Jimmy himself was considerably impressed, but 
Hollister, possessed of a more practical tempera¬ 
ment, disregarded these histrionic horrors, and 
began looking around him for someone whom 
he knew. 

Presently, he nudged Jimmy. 

“ See the little blonde, right in front of us,” he 
said. “ That’s Kitty Nelson. She’s Amy’s great 
friend. When we’re through this scene, we’ll 
have a talk with her. She’s some pippin, too.” 

Jimmy looked, and beheld a sprightly young 
lady, with undeniable charms of face and figure; 
yet he found the whole affair, play and players 
alike, cheap and tawdry, and he felt a certain 
disgust with himself for being there at all. So 
that he answered, “ If you introduce me, call me 
Jones or some name like that. This chorus lady 
business is away out of my line.” 

Hollister nodded reassuringly. 


Men Have Their Exits 


135 


“ Of course,” he agreed. “ I’d have done that, 
anyway. It’s always safer. But Kitty’s a good 
little sport. You needn’t be afraid of meeting 
her. She’s as straight as they make them.” 

Presently, the scene was ended; the mob, with 
the hoarse roars of rage magnificently rendered, 
retired to the wings, and here Hollister at once 
proceeded to perform the ceremony of the intro¬ 
duction. 

“ Kitty,” he said, “ I want you to meet a friend 
of mine. Mr—er—Smith; John Smith. John, 
this is Miss Kitty Nelson.” And then, to the girl, 
he added, “ He wants to find Walton. I told him 
you were Amy’s best friend, and that you’d be 
sure to know whether he’d be here to-night or not. 
You put him wise, now, and excuse me, please. 
I’ve got some business to attend to. I’ll be back 
in a minute.” 

He moved away, and Jimmy, a trifle embar¬ 
rassed, was left alone with Miss Kitty Nelson, 
who made haste, obligingly enough, to give him 
the information he was after, in a high-pitched 
and rather metallic voice, quite at variance with 
her other charms. 

“ He ain’t here now,” she confided, “ but he’s 
coming after the show. He’s going to take Amy 
out to supper. Nice boy, ain’t he? ” 



136 


Putting It Over 


“ Oh, very,” Jimmy assented, and so great was 
his relief at this welcome news that he paid no 
further heed to his companion, until presently he 
became aware that she had evidently just com¬ 
pleted a remark, and was gazing at him inquir¬ 
ingly, as if waiting for an answer. He was 
mortified at his rudeness. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said with contrition. 
“ I was thinking about something else. Excuse 
me, please. What were you saying? ” 

“ My, you ain’t very complimentary,” she 
replied. “ I was just asking you what your 
name was. It ain’t John Smith, I know. That’s 
too old. 

But Jimmy, amid these surroundings, still felt 
an extreme dislike to telling his real name, and so 
deliberately falsified. 

“ Yes it is,” he smilingly responded. “ John 
Smith. If you don’t believe it, look me up in the 
telephone book.” 

“ Nonsense,” she answered. “ Do you think 
I’m as green as that? Go ahead and tell me.” 

“ But,” he parried, “ I don’t ask you what your 
real name is. Kitty Nelson is good enough for 
me.” 

“ Well, I guess it had ought to be,” she retorted. 
11 Thank goodness, I ain’t ashamed of my name. 


Men Have Their Exits 


137 


I come of a family that’s pretty well known around 
these parts. I s’pose you’ve heard of my brother.” 

Jimmy looked puzzled. With the exception of 
the hero of Trafalgar, he was unable, at the 
moment, to recall any other Nelson of world wide 
fame. 

“ What’s his name? ” he asked. 

“ Buck,” she answered. “ Everybody knows 
him. He’s catcher on the Black Sox.” 

And at this, since he was a true American, 
Jimmy’s face lighted with a glow of real enthu¬ 
siasm, and his air of affectation dropped from him 
on the instant. 

“ You don’t say so,” he cried, with a heartiness 
which must have flattered her. “ Why, of course 
I know who he is. I’ve seen him catch, lots of 
times. He’s a whale of a backstop, too.” 

“ You bet he is,” she responded, and from her 
manner it was easy to see that she was among her 

brother’s most ardent admirers. “ And he’s 

% 

more than that, too,” she continued. “ He’s 
awful good to me. He calls for me, here, every 
night I want him to. He’s coming to-night.” 

Jimmy looked at her with a new respect. 

“ Then you’re not much on this supper busi¬ 
ness? ” he hazarded. 

She shook her head emphatically. 


138 


Putting It Over 


“Nix,” she answered. “ Nothing in it. This 
chorus work is a business proposition with me. 
I’m making fair money, and I expect to make 
more. That is, if I keep it up. But Mike wants 
me to quit it, right away.” 

Jimmy laughed, for the inference was quite 
plain, and from the girl’s tone it seemed to him 
that it was a matter she would not be averse to 
discussing. 

“ And if it’s not an impertinent question,” he 
asked, “ who is Mike? ” 

“ Hallahan,” she responded. “ Plays first base. 
You’ve seen him, too.” 

“ Oh sure,” Jimmy assented, “ I’ve seen Halla¬ 
han. Well, I should think that would be much 
pleasanter than this.” 

“ I don’t know,” she answered. “ I’m young 
yet; there’s no hurry. He’s got to wait a while. 
And then — ” she flashed a radiant glance upon 
him — “ someone else might come along. Lots 
of good fish left, you know.” 

Evidently, Jimmy decided, there was still time 
for other suitors to enter the lists, and he made a 
brave attempt to change the subject. 

“ Yes, that’s so,” he assented. “ I should think 
there were plenty of other nice fellows, right 
on the Black Sox team. There’s Glendon, for 


Men Have Their Exits 


139 


instance; I always liked his looks. And Hender¬ 
son’s a clean cut chap. I suppose you know them 
all” 

“ Yes, they all come to the flat,” she answered. 
“ We have some pretty good times there. And 
you’re right about Bob Glendon. He’s a perfect 
gentleman, on the field and off, and a simply 
elegant dresser. Henderson’s nice, too, but aw¬ 
fully quiet. Oh yes, the boys are all right.” 

“ This is mighty interesting,” said Jimmy, with 
perfect truth. “ I like base ball. What does 
your brother think about the pennant? Or 
doesn’t he talk about it? ” 

“ Oh yes,” she answered, “ he thinks the Black 
Sox will win. You see, Joe Stone is pitching like 
a house afire; he’s won eight out of the ten games 
he’s started. And the boys are hitting well, too. 
Lots of people think the Eagles will win again, 
but Buck says No, that this is Black Sox year.” 

Jimmy nodded. He, too, had favored the 
Black Sox to win, and it was pleasant to have his 
opinion corroborated from such an authoritative 
source. A vague idea of making Nelson’s ac¬ 
quaintance suggested itself to his mind. Surely, 
if he chose to risk any more money on the ball 
games, Buck, if so disposed, could keep him in¬ 
formed of a great many things constantly taking 


140 


Putting It Over 


place on the “ inside,” which might be of real 
value to him. And so favorably did this plan 
impress him that he suddenly exclaimed, “ Gee, 
I’d like to meet your brother.” 

“ No trouble about that,” she answered cheer¬ 
fully. “ He’s perfectly easy to meet. Oh, I tell 
you, there’s none of the boys got much on Buck. 
He’s a good old pal. I wonder,” she added 
abruptly, “ what’s pleasing your friend so. He 
looks as if someone had just left him a fortune.” 

Hollister was coming toward them, an expansive 
smile on his face. 

“ Say, Jimmy,” he announced, “ I never re¬ 
member a friend, and I never forget an enemy. 
I’m going to square up with that guy at the door, 
and no mistake.” 

“ Good Lord,” exclaimed Jimmy. “ You 
haven’t been thinking of that again? ” 

Hollister’s grin was more eloquent than words. 

“ Got ’em organized like a machine,” he con¬ 
fided. “ They all hate that chap like poison. 
Don’t they, Kitty? ” 

“ Jaggers? ” Kitty asked. “ You bet they do. 
He’s perfectly awful. The girls don’t like him, 
neither. What you going to do? ” 

Hollister explained, and Kitty shrieked with 
laughter, but then grew grave again. “ It’s 


Men Have Their Exits 


141 


terribly funny/’ she said, “ but it’s risky, too. 
Because most of the stage hands are in the soldier 
bunch. They’re just like kids, you know; they 
want to be on the side that beats. But they’re 
a tough crowd, too, and if you start anything like 
you say you’re going to, why there’ll be a rough- 
house, sure. And someone’s going to get hurt.” 

But Hollister was not to be dissuaded. The 
idea had fired his brain, and though Kitty might 
have expostulated further, the moment for the 
combat was now at hand, and the whole company 
scattered to their respective stations. 

The scene was a thrilling and spectacular one. 
First, a crowd of non-union workmen were way¬ 
laid on leaving the factory, and the strikers were 
pleasantly engaged in slaughtering their adver¬ 
saries, in the most realistic manner, when the 
soldiers, first infantry, then cavalry, came rushing 
on the stage, and gloriously vindicated the maj¬ 
esty of the law. 

On this particular evening, everything, to begin 
with, went as usual, save for the fact that Hollister, 
wholly without authority, at once assumed the 
leadership of the strikers, and soon proved himself 
to be the greatest general they had ever had. So 
savagely, indeed, did they rush upon their victims 
that before long the incensed “ scabs ” had their 


142 


Putting It Over 


fighting blood aroused; but faithful to the tradi¬ 
tions of the play, they suffered in silence, though 
praying, as they had never prayed before, for 
the arrival of the reenforcing soldiery. So that 
when the khaki coated infantry at last came leap¬ 
ing to their aid, it was with a whoop of joy that 
these tortured sufferers hastened to turn upon 
their foe. 

And now, so splendid and stubborn was the 
resistance of these desperate strikers, that a scene 
ensued which rivalled anything the old theatre had 
ever produced. Volleys of musketry, which should 
have stretched the mob upon the field, had no 
visible effect upon them, and at the sight, union 
sympathizers in the audience rose, cheering, to 
their feet; for to be wounded and still to fight on 
is fine enough, but to be dead and not admit the 
fact is more magnificent still; and Hollister and 
his indestructible troops would have made the 
fortune of an army. And gradually, as the 
struggle waxed fiercer, a wild spirit of hilarity 
swept through the spectators, and in front of the 
footlights the tumult was even greater than on the 
stage itself, until finally, in the midst of what 
came very close to being a riot, the curtain 
descended, and the instant it had fallen, a frantic 
and vengeful stage manager appeared upon the 


Men Have Their Exits 


143 


scene. As if by magic, two huge doors which 
guarded an emergency exit, leading to a deserted 
. back alley, were thrown open, and toward this 
entrance the manager pointed. 

“ Sweep ’em out, boys/’ he shouted. “ They 
wanted a fight; now give ’em one! ” 

At his words, with the blood of the contestants 
already at boiling point, jest abruptly changed to 
earnest, and tragedy stalked closely at the heels 
of farce. Hollister, at the head of his army, 
fought like a demon, until the fist of a big scene 
shifter opened his cheek to the bone, and an 
instant later they had clinched, and were rolling 
on the floor. Around them, the battle raged. 
Men dropped on either side; scenery came crash¬ 
ing down; until at last the strikers, outnumbered 
and outfought, were driven forth into the alley. 
Most of them, sobered by this time, and fearful 
of the coming of the police, fled at once, and Jimmy 
would gladly have followed their example, but 
hemmed in by three assailants, he had all he could 
do to parry their attack, as he sought to make 
his way up the alley. And presently, in the 
shadow of a projecting building, while he stood off 
the two men in front of him, the third, with the 
instincts of a cur, crept around behind him, and 
darting in, delivered a blow on Jimmy’s face 


144 


Putting It Over 


that felled him like an ox. His head struck 
sharply on the cobble-stoned ground, and he lay 
still. At once, the three scattered, and Jimmy’s 
motionless form was left lying, sprawled limply, 
in the darkness. 

What would have happened, had no one wit¬ 
nessed the encounter, would have been easy to 
conjecture; and the police would have had at 
least one capture to their credit. But fortunately 
for Jimmy, Kitty Nelson had seen the combat, 
and when he fell, she was quick to act. She had 
liked Jimmy, had mentally dubbed him “ a per¬ 
fect gentleman,” and now had no idea of seeing 
him suffer the degradation of the “ hurry-up 
wagon ” and the “ cops.” 

“ The cooler, sure,” she thought to herself, and 
at once made her way to the regular entrance. 
There she found Buck, big, gruff and taciturn, 
waiting in his accustomed place. 

“ What’s the row? ” he growled. “ Sounds like 
a free fight,” but without answering she grasped 
him by the arm. 

“ Come with me,” she cried, and on the way she 
Explained, “ They’ve knocked a fellow out, down 
there in the alley. He’s a friend of mine. And I 
want you to get him away from here, before the 
cops come.” 


Men Have Their Exits 


145 


Buck grunted. 

“ Probably he’s cut and run by this time,” he 
answered. “ If he hasn’t, he’ll stand a good show 
to get pinched.” 

But half way down the alley, they found Jimmy, 
where he had fallen, and Buck, knowing something 
of injuries, from his experience on the ball field, 
knelt at his side, and put his hand on his heart. 

“ Alive, all right,” he vouchsafed, “ but they 
certainly handed him one.” 

As he spoke, they heard a cry behind them, 
“ The cops! The cops! ” 

“ Quick, Buck,” she begged him. “ We’ll get 
a taxi, and take him home.” 

Buck gathered the prostrate form in his arms, 
and made surprising time down the alley. Two 
minutes later, they had found the wished for 
motor, and were speeding toward home. 

“ Who is he? ” Buck asked. “ And where 
does he come from? ” 

“ His name is Smith,” she answered, “ but that’s 
all I know about him. Only he’s a gentleman. 
He was nice to me. And he knew all about you, 
and wanted to meet you.” 

“ Well, he’s met me, all right,” Buck grimly 
rejoined, “ but he doesn’t seem very conversa¬ 
tional.” 


146 


Putting It Over 


The girl shuddered. 

“ Oh don’t, Buck,” she cried. “ I believe he’s 
hurt bad.” 

A passing light showed Buck an ugly wound in 
the head of the unconscious figure at his side. 

“ Not a doubt of it,” he answered. 

“ We’ll get the doctor, right away,” she pro¬ 
posed. 

Buck put his hand to the injured man’s head, 
withdrew it again, and whistled under his breath. 

“ Doctor or coroner,” he responded. “ It’s a 
question which.” 



CHAPTER X 


AND THEIR ENTRANCES 

On a fine, pleasant morning, in the month of 
August, Doctor Robert Mansfield, physician in 
charge of the Black Sox, entered his office, to find 
that “ Buck ” Nelson, the team’s star catcher, had 
preceded him, and sat stretched at ease in the big 
Morris chair, patiently awaiting his arrival. 

“ Hullo, Buck,” he hailed, in some concern. 
“ What’s the matter now? Haven’t split a finger, 
have you? ” 

“ No, no,” Nelson answered; “ nothing as bad 
as that. I’m feeling fit enough. But there’s 
something I want to talk to you about, Doc; 
that is, if you’re not too busy.” 

The doctor seated himself at his desk. 

“ The idea of my being busy,” he responded 
genially, “is a joke. My patients are an incon¬ 
siderate lot; I believe they keep well, just out of 
spite. So I’ve plenty of time, Buck, and we can 
talk just as long as you please. What’s on your 
mind?/’ 

a 


148 


Putting It Over 


“ It’s this guy Smith,” Nelson promptly an¬ 
swered. “ He’s what’s on my mind. And here’s 
what I want to find out, Doc. That fellow was 
certainly some sick boy, and with all due respect 
to you, and your reputation for curing folks, I’d 
like to ask you this question. Do you consider 
him, in the shape he’s in to-day, a well man, or 
don’t you? ” 

Doctor Mansfield, fingers pressed meditatively 
together, deliberated for some moments before 
replying. Then came his answer, brief and to the 
point. 

“ Physically,” he responded, “ yes.” 

It was evident, from Nelson’s manner, that the 
inference to be drawn from the doctor’s words 
did not surprise him, but tended, rather, to con¬ 
firm some previous judgment of his own, for he 
nodded several times, in vigorous assent, before 
he lifted his hand to his forehead, and tapped it 
meaningly. 

“ But up here,” he questioned, “ just a little 
bit nutty, Doc. Isn’t that what you mean? ” 

The doctor raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, I don’t know as I’d say that,” he answered; 
“ but we must admit that he had an ugly fall. 
There was severe concussion, beyond a doubt. 
And the fever that ensued was unusually violent, 


And Their Entrances 


149 


and was attended by some rather disquieting 
symptoms. Let me see; it lasted a fortnight, 
didn’t it? All of that.” 

The catcher reflected for a moment; then 
answered, “ Sure it did. Because it’s the middle 
of August now, and he’s been out and about for 
’most a month. I guess he was loony for pretty 
near three weeks.” 

The doctor turned to his desk, and consulted 
his note book. 

“ Yes,” he assented, “ that’s it, exactly. It 
was the sixteenth of July before I let him go out 
at all. So considering that he’s had a serious 
illness, of an unusual nature, and lasting for quite 
a length of time, perhaps it’s not to be wondered 
at if he’s not wholly normal, even now. Mind 
you, I don’t mean to say, positively, that there’s 
anything wrong. But on the whole, Buck, since 
you’ve asked me, I’m rather inclined to believe 
that owing to the fall, or the fever, or both, there 
is some slight trouble still remaining, and that at 
present we cannot really say that he is absolutely 
in perfect health.” 

Nelson pondered. 

“ Well,” he at length observed, “ I guess you’ve 
just about hit it, Doc. He acts sensible enough, 
and he talks sensible enough, and yet there’s 


150 


Putting It Over 


something about him that doesn’t seem just like 
other folks. Funniest thing is, he doesn’t ever say 
anything about his home. Stays right on with 
us, contented as can be. And that’s queer, isn’t it?” 

“ Yes,” the doctor admitted, “ it is. But how 
can you afford to board him, Buck? You’re not 
keeping him out of charity, are you? Does he do 
anything to support himself? ” 

“ Oh, there’s no trouble about that,” answered 
Nelson. “ He had money on him when he came, 
and he’s made more, too. He’s what you’d call 
a pretty slick guy.” 

“ Made money, has he? ” the doctor repeated. 
“ How? ” 

“ Oh, he bets with the bookies,” the catcher 
rejoined. “ I never saw a fellow with quite such 
an eye for picking winners. He comes to morning 
practice, every day, and sits there, quiet as a lamb. 
But he’s taking everything in, just the same, 
’cause he comes to me, afterwards, and tells me 
whether the boys are going good or not. He may 
be queer in some ways, but when it comes to base 
ball, he’s certainly all there. No, it isn’t the 
money I was thinking of. He pays regular, and 
he’s got quite a pile salted away in the bank, 
besides.” 

The doctor laughed. 


And Their Entrances 


151 


“ Well, what’s worrying you, then? ” he asked. 
“ You seem to have a boarder who behaves him¬ 
self, makes money, and pays his bills. I can’t 
see what’s wrong with that.” 

Nelson hesitated. 

“ Well, you see, Doc,” he presently answered, 
“ it’s just like this. It’s Kitty that I’m thinking 
about. I’ve a sort of an idea that she’s getting 
stuck on this guy. Seems to be mutual, too. I 
guess he thinks as much of her as she does of him.” 

The doctor smiled. 

“ Well, now we’re getting somewhere,” he 
replied. “ I can see where that causes serious 
complications, right away. Complications of the 
heart, too, though not in a strictly medical sense. 
Of course it’s none of my business, but I had 
always understood that Mike Hallahan was to be 
the lucky man.” 

“ That’s what everyone thought,” assented Nel¬ 
son. “ They’ve been keeping company, steady, 
for about a year, so I’d figured they might get mar¬ 
ried ’most any time. But now she’s going around 
with Smith, and the other deal seems to be all off.” 

“And what does Mike say?” queried the doctor. 
“ I shouldn’t think he was the kind to stand for it.” 

“ Oh well,” grinned Nelson, “ he can’t help 
himself. He’s so stuck on Kitty that he hasn’t 


152 


Putting It Over 


the nerve to get mad with her. He acts just like 
a great big sheep. But it’s raising the deuce with 
his playing. He dropped off a dozen points in his 
batting last week, and made two or three rotten er¬ 
rors. I told Kit what I thought about it, and she 
said I’d jolly well better mind my own business.” 

Doctor Mansfield laughed. 

“ So you’re trying to get me involved instead,” 
he good-humoredly rejoined. “ And I suppose 
what you really want, Buck, is to have me find 
out what I can about Smith.” 

“ That’s it,” the catcher agreed. “ Of course, 
if Kitty’s made up her mind to marry him, she 
will, and that settles it. But I feel as though I 
ought to know something more about him first. 
And he’s as tight as a clam about himself. Gets 
mad if you try to pump him. So I didn’t know 
what the hell to do.” 

“ It’s quite a problem, isn’t it,” the doctor 
assented. “ I wish you’d ask Smith to come in 
and see me, some day soon, and I’ll have a talk 
with him. And in the meantime tell Kitty she’d 
better go slow. I’ve had no experience, thank 
God, but those who have, tell me that getting 
married is a mighty serious business.” 

“ I’ll bet it is,” Nelson rejoined, with convic¬ 
tion, as he rose to go. “ You do your best, Doc, 


And Their Entrances 


153 


and if you can stave things off for a while, that will 
keep me from worrying. It’s bad enough to have 
the Eagles three games ahead of us, without hav¬ 
ing to run a matrimonial bureau, besides. That’s 
just a little more than I can stand.” 

“ I don’t blame you a bit,” the doctor sympa¬ 
thized. “ By the way, Buck, how about the 
Eagles? Are they going to trim you for the 
pennant? ” 

“ Blamed if I know,” the catcher answered. 
“ We’ve got to start west next week, and that 
means a hard month on the road. The boss says 
we’ll catch them, but I think he’s some worried, at 
that. As for me, I’ve got my doubts.” 

“ If Joe Stone hadn’t broken his thumb,” 
remarked the doctor, “ I imagine you’d be in the 
lead to-day.” 

“ Oh sure,” Nelson assented; “ there’s no doubt 
of it. That’s been the whole trouble with the 
team. You take a star pitcher like Joe — a man 
who wins two games out of three, right along — 
and put him out of commission, and it raises the 
devil with your chances. One good pitcher— 
that’s what we need, and that’s what we can’t find. 
Well, I must get over to practice; Mac’s driving 
us, these days. He wants that pennant, the 
worst way, but with Joe out of it, it’s going to be 


154 


Putting It Over 


an uphill fight. So long, Doc; Til see you 
again before we go.” 

And still pondering over the problem of the 
pitching staff, the big catcher made his way toward 
the park, to find, upon his arrival, that the entire 
team was in a distinctly disgruntled mood, for 
Stone’s injury had been a serious blow to the 
players’ hopes, and the general air of irritation and 
discouragement had never been more in evidence 
than it was on this particular morning. Maguire, 
the peppery little manager, was stricter than ever 
in enforcing discipline; Stone himself, his hand 
swathed in bandages, sat disconsolately in the 
grandstand, looking longingly on at the practice 
below; while the rest of the boys, with the feeling 
that Fate “ had it in ” for them, went about their 
work in a listless and perfunctory way. 

Gradually, however, as the spell of the game 
took possession of them, their spirits improved. 
Glendon, at third base, made two or three seem¬ 
ingly impossible stops, and then shot the ball 
across to Hallahan in time to have cut down the 

i 

fleetest runner who ever wore a shoe. Spraker, in 
centre field, covered an acre of ground, while 
Martin, their best remaining pitcher, now that 
Stone was hurt, warmed up with a fine display 
of “ smoke.” So that altogether, by the time 


And Their Entrances 


155 


practice was over, and the men had started for the 
dressing room, confidence and good humor were 
once more restored, and hilarity and hopefulness 
had taken the place of pessimism and gloom. 

This was true, however, with one exception, for 
the demeanor of “ Silent John ” Smith, privileged 
to enter the grounds as Nelson’s friend, had under¬ 
gone no change. As usual, he sat stolidly in the 
bleachers, watching every move in the play, and 
as usual, when the workout was over, he came 
down on the field, and strolled leisurely toward 
the spot where Nelson was standing. 

Buck, however, though eager, as a rule, to hear 
what Smith had to say, was for once too busy to 
heed him, for Mike Hallahan, who had remained 
behind the rest of the players, was engaged, much 
to his own delight, in imitating various well known 
pitchers, slamming the ball at Nelson with such 
speed that his shoots struck Buck’s big mitt with 
reports like those of a rifle. And thus Smith 
stood waiting by the catcher’s side until the 
exhibition should cease. 

“ And now, ladies and gentlemen,” shouted 
Mike, “ comes the only genuine imitation of 
Walter Johnson putting over a fast one.” 

The impersonation, however, was as little like 
the announcement as could well be imagined, for 


156 


Putting It Over 


the ball, at the moment of delivery, slipped from 
his fingers, and sped wide, not only far away from 
Buck, but even to the left of Smith, as well. And 
then a singular thing happened, for “ Silent 
John/’ as mechanically as if by pure instinct, 
reached out, caught the ball in his bare hand, and 
all in the same motion, tossed it nonchalantly to 
Buck, and stood waiting as before. 

Nelson stared. 

“ Holy smoke! ” he exclaimed, in justifiable 
surprise. “ What do you think you’re doing, 
boy? ” And as he shot the ball back to Halla- 
han, he added, “ That was some stop, Mike. 
You’d better look out. If you make as many 
errors this week as you did last, he might make 
you hustle for your job.” 

He spoke thoughtlessly, but the ill-timed jest 
served to arouse Hallahan’s anger, and he turned 
at once toward Smith. 

“ Catch this one, then, you mutt,” he yelled, 
and as he spoke he let drive with all the speed at 
his command. 

It was all over in an instant. The ball came 
straight enough this time, the imitation, although 
Mike had forgotten to announce it, being clearly 
that of an angry first baseman; and while it 
seemed as if Smith had time enough to dodge, 


And Their Entrances 


157 


apparently he scorned to do so, and to the amaze¬ 
ment of both Hallahan and Nelson, as the ball 
reached him, he craftily gave ground, and stopped 
it with a dexterity that the cleverest player in the 
league could hardly have surpassed. But the 
speed was great, the impact stung cruelly, and as 
Smith recovered himself, there was a gleam in his 
eye which boded no good to Mr. Michael Halla¬ 
han. For a moment, he stood motionless, with the 
ball clasped in his right hand, which hung loosely 
at his side. His eyes were fixed steadily on his 
assailant, and presently, with an easy, graceful 
motion, he whirled his arm around his head, took 
a step forward, and then, like a streak of lightning, 
returned the ball. To the first baseman, it looked 
as though it were going wild and to the right, and 
without even preparing to catch it, he stood still, 
with a sneer on his lips, when all at once, before 
he had time to leap aside, the ball, at what Buck 
ever afterward declared to have been an angle of 
ninety degrees, suddenly altered its course, and 
imbedded itself, with a dull “ plunk,” in Mr. 
Hallahan’s ribs. 

The giant, doubled up with pain, gave a grunt 
of anguish; then audibly voiced his wrath and his 
desire for revenge. 

“ Ow, ow, ow! ” he yelled, and as he regained an 


158 Putting It Over 

upright posture, came charging madly across the 
field. 

“ Just for that/’ he shouted, “ I’m going to 
break your neck,” but Nelson interposed his 
stocky form between the pair. 

“ No you won’t,” he retorted. “ It’s your own 
fault, Mike; you let him alone.” 

“ I’m damned if I will,” cried Hallahan. “ I’ll 
lick him first, and you afterward,” and there was 
every indication of a fine, free-for-all fight, when 
Maguire, emerging from the dressing room, sud¬ 
denly appeared upon the scene. 

“ Here, here,” he cried, “ cut it out, boys. 
What do you think you’re celebrating? What’s 
all the row about, Buck? ” 

“ Nothing at all,” Nelson answered. “ There’s 
no row. Mike was only saying he felt so hot he 
thought he’d better go in and take his shower, to 
cool himself off.” 

Hallahan glared, but not daring, in the presence 
of the manager, to try to carry out his threat, he 
strode away toward the players’ room, his hand 
pressed close to the spot where Smith’s well-aimed 
shot had struck home. 

Maguire turned to Buck. 

“ Now then,” he questioned, “ what was the 
riot? ” 


And Their Entrances 


159 


Buck, with a grin, told his story. 

“ Darndest curve ball/’ he concluded, “ I 
ever saw in my life. I believe this fellow could 
pitch like a streak.” 

Maguire, with a grunt of disbelief, turned to 
look at Smith, who stood stolidly examining his 
left hand, for Hallahan’s ball had left its mark 
behind it. Surely, he bore little resemblance to a 
player. 

“ That! ” began the manager. “ That pitch—” 
but at this juncture Joe Stone came hurrying out 
from the players’ gate. 

“ Here’s Joe,” said Nelson. “ He ought to know 
something about it. Ask him.” 

“ What’s Buck giving me,” the manager queried, 
“about this poor lobster pitching a curve at 
Mike? ” 

“ It’s the truth,” Stone declared. “ He let her 
go like a man that’s played ball all his life. Say, 
you,” he called to Smith, “ can you pitch? ” 

Smith looked at him, without excitement, or 
even interest, in his gaze. 

“ Sure,” he answered, “ I can pitch,” and fell 
once more to examining his injured hand. 

Buck laughed aloud. 

“ What did I tell you? ” he cried. “ Look here, 
Mac, here’s what we’d better do. Let him come 


160 


Putting It Over 


over to the grounds, this evening, after the game, 
and I’ll try him out. Let Joe come, too. It can’t 
do any harm. You said yesterday you didn’t 
know where you’d find a pitcher unless one rained 
down from Heaven. Perhaps that’s where Jack 
hails from.” 

“ Yes,” Maguire dryly rejoined, “ he looks as if 
he’d rained down. His clothes fit him that way, 
too. Well, if you and Joe want to make fools of 
yourselves, go ahead. I don’t care.” 

“ And if he’s any good,” Buck insisted, “ you 
let me try him out against the boys to-morrow 
morning, at practice.” 

“ I thought,” the manager scoffed, “ he was a 
friend of yours.” 

“ He is,” Buck maintained. 

“ Then,” the manager rejoined, “ you ought to 
be ashamed of yourself. The boys will paste the 
life out of him, and jolly him, besides. It isn’t 
fair to the poor guy.” 

Buck eyed him reflectively. 

“ Now you hold on, Mac,” he said. “ You’re 
not giving me a fair show,” and going up to Smith, 
he talked to him earnestly for several minutes; 
then came back to Maguire. 

“ Well,” the manager inquired, with elaborate 
sarcasm, “ what’s the news? Does he think he’s 


And Their Entrances 


161 


as good as Mathewson, or does his modesty pre¬ 
vent his saying so? ” 

Buck paid no heed. 

“ You told me, the other day/’ he rejoined, 
“ that the boys were going stale, and needed some¬ 
thing to brace ’em up. Now I’ll give you just the 
chance you’re looking for. I’ll bet you twenty- 
five dollars that if you’ll let me put a team of 
substitutes behind this boy, to-morrow morn¬ 
ing, we can put out your nine regulars before they 
send in three runs. Now will you put up, or 
shut up?” 

The offer served to restore the manager’s good 
humor, for he foresaw a frolic for his team. 

“ I’ll do both,” he answered. “ I’ll take the 
bet, and I won’t say another word until I collect, 
to-morrow morning. Only bring new bills, please. 
I’m rather particular about the stuff I carry,” and 
he departed. 

Nelson turned to Stone. 

“ What do you think, Joe? ” he asked. 

The injured pitcher shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Oh, you can’t tell,” he replied. “ He may not 
have control, or he may be a bonehead — prob¬ 
ably is; he acts like one — but as to his being able 
to pitch a whale of a curve ball, there’s no doubt of 
that at all. Still, there’s no use making guesses 


162 


Putting It Over 


about it. Wait till this afternoon, and we’ll know. 
You have him here at half past five.” 

But when Buck broached the subject to Smith, 
complications at once arose. 

“ No,” said “ Silent John.” 

“ Why not? ” demanded Buck. 

“ Date with Kitty,” Smith responded. “Park; 
concert,” and for the moment, at least, Buck’s 
plans were apparently in danger of defeat. 

The big catcher, however, was a tactician, not 
only on the ball field, but off of it as well, and at 
lunch he had a serious talk with his sister. 

“ Look here,” he demanded, “ how do things 
stand between you and Smith? ” 

“ None of your business,” she retorted. 

“ Yes, but it is,” Buck persisted. “ I want to 
know why you go around with him instead of with 
Mike. Is it because he’s winning money on the 
ball games? ” 

She did not make a direct reply to his question. 

“ Ain’t there lots of guys,” she evaded, “ that’s 
got money, that I could go around with, if I 
chose? ” 

“ Sure, I know there are,” he pacified her. 
“ That’s why I wondered. I guess you must really 
like him, then.” 

“ Maybe I do; maybe I don’t,” she responded, 


And Their Entrances 


163 


but there was that in her tone which made him 
feel that he had hit upon the real reason. 

“ Well, you’ve got a perfect right to,” he as¬ 
sured her. “ Of course, he don’t talk much, but 
that gives you all the better chance t , and the Lord 
knows you can certainly average up for him. But 
there’s just one reason I shouldn’t want to see you 
marry him, Kit; he’s got no steady job. Now, 
let me tell you what happened at the park, this 
morning,” and he narrated the tale of Mike and 
Silent John. 

She shrieked with laughter. 

“ I’d like to seen it,” she cried, but immediately 
growing grave again, “ Honest, Buck,” she asked, 
“ do you think he can pitch? ” 

“ Don’t know; that’s what I want to find out,” 
he answered. “ Now when he comes to keep his 
date with you, you make him go straight to the 
park. Tell him you’re crazy to have him show 
he’s a swell pitcher, and hand him a lot of stuff 
like that. Because, if he really can pitch, you see, 
there’ll be nothing to it at all. Mac will pay any 
money to get him, and I’ll look out for it that 
Smith’s treated right. Then you’ll have a husband 
that can support you fine.” 

“ That would be elegant,” she assented, and so 
it happened that at half past five, Smith, with a 


164 


Putting It Over 


bored and indifferent air, put in an appearance at 
the park, and there spent an hour alone with Buck 
Nelson and Joe Stone. 

After which, he went to keep his postponed date 
with Kitty, while Buck and Joe rode home to¬ 
gether. Both were thoughtful. As they alighted 
from the car, and walked slowly toward Buck’s 
flat, Joe observed, apparently apropos of nothing 
in particular, “ Well, the earth is flat, and the 
moon is made of green cheese.” 

Buck chuckled. 

“ I should worry,” he rejoined, seemingly with 
equal irrelevance. “ I should worry,” he repeated, 
“ and win twenty-five dollars.” 


/ 


CHAPTER XI 


A TRYOUT AT THE PARK 

The clock in the players’ room pointed to the 
hour of ten; the time for morning practice had 
come; and Maguire, mounting the rubbing bench, 
rapped for order, and proceeded, as usual, to 
sketch, in outline, the program for the day. 

“ Now then, boys,” he began, “ we’re going to 
have a little change this morning, to liven things 
up a bit. First, we’ll hold the usual practice, for 
an hour, and then our esteemed friend, the 
Honorable Buck Nelson, is going to stage a little 
vaudeville entertainment, for our benefit.” 

The players stared. This was something out of 
the ordinary, with a vengeance. And as Maguire 
did not vouchsafe further explanation, Glendon 
ventured to ask, “ What is it, Mac? Moving 
pictures? ” 

“ Better than that,” the manager answered. 
“ A whole lot better. Buck’s got hold of a rookie 
pitcher, and he’s kindly offered to line up a team of 
substitutes, and let the regulars have a little bat¬ 
ting practice.” 


166 


Putting It Over 


There was a yell of delight from all parts of the 
room. And then a cry of “ What’s his name, 
Mac? Where’d you find him? ” 

“ No,” Maguire responded, “ ’twouldn’t be fair 
to Buck to tell. But I’ll let you in on this part of 
it. Buck has bet me twenty-five dollars, in real 
money, that you boys can’t make three runs while 
his team is putting out nine men. And I want 
that coin, the very worst way.” 

There was another shout. Clearly, as far as 
putting ginger into the players was concerned, 
Buck’s expedient had been a success. 

“ Go ahead now,” the manager added. “ Get 
out there and start working, so you’ll be all 
limbered up for the murder. And remember, if 
you don’t get those three runs, Buck will never 
let me hear the last of it. So you want to pitch 
in, and do your best.” 

At once, the players scattered to their various 
positions, with more animation than they had dis¬ 
played for weeks. 

“ Say, Mike,” Glendon remarked to Hallahan, 
as they walked out on the field, “ is he giving it to 
us straight, or is he kidding us? ” 

“ Oh, it’s straight enough,” Hallahan answered, 
“ and I can make a pretty good guess at what’s 
doing. You know that dummy Smith who comes 


A Tryout at the Park 


167 


and watches the practice. Well, I threw one wild 
to Buck yesterday, and this poor boob caught it. 
So Buck immediately fell for the idea that he was 
a great ball player, and I expect he’s the rookie 
Mac was telling us about.” 

Glendon’s disappointment was evident. 

“ Well, that’s too bad,” he answered, “ because 
it will spoil all the fun. It would have been good 
sport to land on some young chap who thought he 
was a great pitcher, but I’m afraid this fellow 
won’t even get ’em over, and if he does, they’ll 
be so easy that it will be a shame. The first four 
men up ought to get those three runs, and then 
what chance will there be for the rest of us? I 
wonder what Buck was thinking of. I don’t 
suppose this chap can pitch anything but a straight 
ball.” 

Hallahan, if he had been so disposed, might 
have furnished positive evidence that Smith could 
pitch a curve, but it was a subject upon which he 
not unnaturally preferred to keep his own counsel. 

“ Oh, Buck has worried so much since Joe Stone 
got hurt,” he answered, “ that he’s been fairly 
dreaming pitchers. So he’s got a hunch about this 
guy. But I’m afraid it’s a wrong one.” 

Before many moments had passed, the remain¬ 
der of the team had become aware of Hallahan’s 


168 


Putting It Over 


theory as to the identity of the rookie. Some 
of them, like Glendon, received the news with 
disgust; others, pleased at the prospect of wit¬ 
nessing a ridiculous exhibition, were filled with 
delight, for with the Eagles pulling steadily away 
from them, chances for laughter had lately been 
extremely few and far between. 

And when eleven o’clock came, the opportunity 
for merriment was certainly afforded them. A 
taxi stopped at the gate, and Buck alighted, 
followed by a figure which was unmistakably 
Smith, but clad in an old suit of the burly Buck’s 
wdiich clung about him in folds, and with a shabby 
cap drawn well down over his eyes, his appearance 
would have brought a smile to the lips of the most 
kind-hearted. 

“ Scarecrow,” Hallahan muttered, and the 
comparison was a fair one. Yet Maguire, a 
shrewd judge of athletes, casting a speculative 
eye at Smith, displayed a trifle more interest than 
before. Street clothes and base ball clothes make 
a vast difference in a man’s looks, and some play¬ 
ers, in sporting parlance, “ strip big,” that is, 
appear much larger in athletic costume than when 
clad in ordinary attire. This was the case with 
Smith. Arms, legs and body showed even, sym¬ 
metrical development, and the manager was forced 


A Tryout at the Park 


169 


to acknowledge that as far as physical qualifica¬ 
tions went, the new recruit compared favorably 
with any other member of the team. 

“ Now, then,” Nelson exclaimed, “ we’re all 
warmed up, and ready to start. So let’s get going, 
right away.” 

f Accordingly, the substitutes strolled, somewhat 
sheepishly, to their places, but a word or two from 
Buck, a natural leader of men, soon dispelled their 
inertia. 

“ You’re a great lot of sports,” he cried. “You 
act as if you thought you were licked before you’d 
started. What do you think you are? An old 
ladies’ home? Get some pep into you, now, and 
show what you can do.” 

At which caustic harangue, the substitutes dis¬ 
played a little more spirit, and Maguire, grinning 
in spite of himself, stepped behind the plate, to 
officiate as umpire. 

“ Batter up! ” he yelled, and Henderson, the 
lead off man, fell promptly into position. 

Behind the bat, perhaps the only man on the 
field who was taking the matter in deadly earnest, 
crouched Buck. 

“ Now then,” he muttered, “ if he’ll only keep 
his head.” 

But seemingly he had no cause for alarm. For 


170 


Putting It Over 


instead of showing nervousness or timidity, Smith 
scarcely seemed to take sufficient interest in his 
work. He cast a look around him, to see that 
infield and outfield were properly placed, then 
stood slouching in the box, until Buck gave him 
the sign for a straight, fast one across the plate. 
The guess was good, for Buck knew that Hender¬ 
son’s invariable rule was to let the first one go 
by. Smith, winding up with deliberation, sent 
the ball across as ordered, and Maguire bellowed, 
“ Strike one! ” 

Nothing could have been more encouraging to 
the substitutes. At once, enthusiasm seized 
them, and for the first time they began to enter 
into the spirit of the contest. 

“ Atta boy, Jack,” called Rogers, from short 
stop. 

“ Good boy, John,” echoed Regan, from first 
base, but the nonchalant Smith gave no sign of 
heeding them. Henderson, observing him, began 
to take a different view of the affair, for there was 
something in the rookie’s manner, and in his 
delivery, that looked dangerous, and it was with 
every intention of doing his best that he shifted 
his position a trifle, grasped his bat more firmly, 
and watched Smith’s every movement with a 
keen and well-trained eye. 


A Tryout at the Park 171 

The next ball, however, came wide, but in the 
psychological fraction of a second in which Hen¬ 
derson decided not to hit at it, it curved so sharply 
that it cut the corner of the plate, and Maguire’s 
yell, “ Strike two! ” echoed in Buck’s ears like 
music. 

And now had come the moment the catcher 
had been waiting for, and with eyes gleaming, 
and hands outstretched, as if in prayer, he gave 
his signal, and waited, with full confidence, for 
it to be obeyed. 

This time, Smith wound up even more deliber¬ 
ately than before, and the ball, when it came, 
looked deceptively easy. Henderson, with a 
great joy in his heart, swung mightily, but there 
followed no crisp sound of wood upon horsehide. 
“ You’re out,” bawled Maguire, and Henderson 
turned to confront the grinning Buck. 

“ Some drop, boy,” the catcher observed. 

Henderson nodded. 

“ I missed it by a yard,” he acknowledged, and 
with a meditative glance at the undemonstrative 
and slouching Smith, he added, “I’ve had folks 
tell me, all my life, that appearances were deceit¬ 
ful, and now, by gorry, I believe ’em,” and with 
this sage observation, he strolled thoughtfully 
back to the bench. 


172 


Putting It Over 


A moment later, however, things looked better 
for the regulars, for Porter drove a sharp bounder 
to third base, which Armstrong fumbled, and the 
batter was safe at first. The advantage, though, 
was but temporary, for Spraker, over eager, bit at 
a wide out curve and hit into a double play; 
McLeod, the clean-up man, popped up a foul, 
and Mike Hallahan himself followed Henderson’s 
example, and ignominiously struck out. 

By this time, the regulars were fully aroused, 
but try as they might, no hits were forthcoming. 
A fly to the outfield, a weak infield grounder, and 
two more strike-outs completed the tale, and the 
“ vaudeville entertainment ” was at an end. 

Long and loud was the discussion that followed 
in the players’ room. 

“ I haven’t seen anyone since I can remember,” 
declared Glendon, that’s got better curves than 
this chap. He’s a genuine find, and that’s all 
there is to it.” 

“ He’s got nothing at all,” insisted Hallahan. 
“ He just caught us on a day when we didn’t 
happen to be hitting. He’s a flivver, he is. He’ll 
never last in the world.” 

In support of one view or the other, the remain¬ 
ing players joined eagerly in the argument, but 
the majority, more unprejudiced than the first 


A Tryout at the Park 


173 


baseman, sided with Glendon, and most important 
of all, the manager’s impressions were evidently 
favorable, for after a long conference with Buck 
Nelson and Joe Stone, and after Kitty Nelson 
had lent her influence toward persuading Smith, 
the silent one, two days later, signed his name to a 
Black Sox contract, calling for three thousand 
dollars for the balance of the season, and thus 
became officially a member of the team. 

Two days before the boys departed on their 
western trip, he pitched his first big league game, 
won it by holding his opponents to three hits 
and no runs, and by means of an opportune 
single, drove in two tallies for the Black Sox. 

In private, as well as in public life, matters also 
seemed to prosper with him, for at the station, 
on the day of their departure, Kitty Nelson ap¬ 
peared to bid the boys good-by, her hand ungloved 
to display the diamond which graced it, and at 
the moment of leaving, she flung her arms around 
Smith’s neck, and fervently kissed him. 

Mike Hallahan, witnessing the scene from the 
platform of the train, turned positively livid, and 
gazed longingly at the axe inside the car. “ To 
be used,” read the sign below it, “ in case of 
emergency only.” 

Mike pondered the chances. 


174 


Putting It Over 


“ ’Twould be,” he grimly reflected, “ a question 

Wk*. 

for the jury, but by all the saints, I believe the 
verdict would be justifiable homicide. No man’s 
more than human, and I’m humaner than most.” 

And thus did the Black Sox depart on their 
western invasion, with one addition to their pitch¬ 
ing staff, and with their minds intent upon cap¬ 
turing the pennant from the flying Eagles, who 
still led them by a margin of four games. 


CHAPTER XII 


A QUESTION OF IDENTITY 

On the morning of the twenty-second of Sep¬ 
tember, Mr. Edgar J. Ellison, systematic and 
precise as ever, was seated at his desk, methodi¬ 
cally reviewing his list of engagements for the 
forthcoming week. 

They were many, and of various kinds. On 
the twenty-third, he was to act as master at a 
hearing, and on the twenty-fourth was to appear 
before a committee of the Legislature. Meetings 
of directors and trustees consumed the twenty- 
fifth; on the twenty-sixth he was to argue a case 
in the Probate Court; and on the twenty-seventh, 
at noon, he noted that the contest for the Blake 
millions came officially to an end. 

Perhaps every man, even the most conservative 
and steady going, has a trace of the gambler in his 
blood, for it was over the engagement of the 
twenty-seventh that Mr. Ellison pondered the 
longest. 

“ An unfortunate affair,” he mused, “ yet 


176 


Putting It Over 


an interesting one, as well. I confess to con¬ 
siderable curiosity as to the result.” 

A discreet tap at the door interrupted his reflec¬ 
tions, and his stenographer entered, bearing a 
card. Mr. Ellison read it, and looked up, with an 
approach to a frown. 

“ I trust,” he observed with some severity, 
“ that this is not a matter of books, or subscrip¬ 
tions, or anything of that sort.” 

“ Indeed no, sir,” the stenographer answered, 
“ nothing like that, I am sure. And the young 
lady said that her business was important, and 
that she hoped very much that you would see her. 
She asked me to tell you that it would be only a 
matter of a few moments.” 

“ Yes, that’s what they always say,” sighed Mr. 
Ellison, but almost immediately added, “ Very 
well; show her in at once, please,” and a moment 
later his caller entered, and he rose from his 
chair and conducted her to a seat. 

“ And what,” he asked, referring to her card, 
for his memory for names was not what it had 
been, “ may I do for you, Miss Lawrence? ” 

Dorothy came to the point at once. 

“ I wish to know, Mr. Ellison,” she said, 
“ whether you can tell me anything about Mr. 
James Blake. Do you know what his address is, 


A Question of Identity 


177 


or have you recently seen him, or received any 
word from him? ” 

She waited anxiously for his reply, and when it 
came, her disappointment was manifest, for he 
answered, “No. I am sorry, but I have neither 
seen Mr. Blake, nor heard from him, since the 
latter part of June.” 

She sat for a moment in thoughtful silence. 

“ And that was just the time—” she began; 
then abruptly broke off to explain, “ I think I 
should tell you, Mr. Ellison, that I first met Mr. 
Blake about three months ago. We were not 
actually engaged, but matters were really under¬ 
stood between us. I was forced to leave him, and 
he told me that his plans were most uncertain, and 
that he probably would not be able to correspond 
. with any regularity. But just before I left, he 
gave me your address, and told me that if I did 
not hear from him, I could come to you.” 

The lawyer looked puzzled. 

“ It is rather a singular coincidence,” he 
observed, “ but I am expecting to see Mr. Blake 
within a very short time. To be exact, upon the 
twenty-seventh of this month. In fact, practically 
speaking, I am sure to see him, unless —” 

He paused, unwilling to add to her uneasiness, 
but she herself completed his unspoken thought. 


178 


Putting It Over 


“ That is just what I fear/’ she said. “ I 
waited at first without any misgivings. To be 
frank, I think I was a little piqued at his failure 
to write. And so I let day after day slip by, until 
at last I became really frightened, and so cut my 
visit short, and came east to see you, and to find 
out if anything could have happened to him. 
But I never expected such a disappointment as 
this.” 

“ I am extremely sorry,” the lawyer sympa¬ 
thized, “ and I can make but one suggestion, and 
that is that you go to see his cousin, Mr. Harold 
Blake. I am sure that he could in all probability 
tell you something of your fiance. If you will 
wait a moment, I will give you his address. And 
if you can find no trace of Mr. James Blake, if 
you will come here on the morning of the twenty- 
eighth, I am confident that I shall then have heard 
from him.” 

She thanked him, took her leave, and a half hour 
later was being received, with equal courtesy, in 
Harold’s less pretentious office. But as far as 
news went, she was no more successful than she 
had been with Mr. Ellison. 

“ I haven’t seen or heard of him since the end of 
June,” Harold told her, “ but Mr. Ellison is right 
about the twenty-seventh. We shall certainly 


A Question of Identity 179 

meet him then, and doubtless receive a full 
explanation.’ 7 

He spoke with assurance, but only to relieve 
her evident distress, for the idea of Jimmy’s 
failing to write to a girl like Dorothy struck him as 
too absurd to be credible. But as to what had 
really happened, he could form no conjecture. 

“ I’ll tell you what we might do,” he suggested. 
“ I know where he banks; I know his club; and 
I know where he was boarding in June. Let’s 
make the round trip, and see what we can find 
out.” 

“ I couldn’t think of troubling you,” she told 
him, but Harold was insistent, and accordingly 
they visited the three places suggested, but only 
to find disappointment awaiting them at each in 
turn. There was no news of him at the bank; 
none at the club; none at the boarding place, 
where they were told that Mr. Blake had abruptly 
departed, nearly three months ago. Altogether, 
the mystery of his disappearance appeared to be 
startlingly complete. 

Yet they had the satisfaction of having done 
their best, and their search had consumed so much 
time that it was almost two o’clock before they 
once more found themselves in the vicinity of 
Harold’s office. 


180 


Putting It Over 


“ I’ve wasted your whole morning,” said 
Dorothy remorsefully. “ I’m very grateful to you 
indeed.” 

“ Why, it’s nothing at all,” Harold answered. 
“ I’m only sorry we weren’t more successful. 
Hullo, what’s the trouble now? ” 

In front of them, a crowd surged and pressed 
about the steps of one of the big hotels. Through 
the throng, they could see that taxis were drawn 
up before the door, and presently down the steps 
came a group of figures picturesquely dressed in 
white, with black caps, belts and stockings. 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Harold, “ it’s the Black Sox — 
our ball team, you know.” 

“ Of course,” Dorothy echoed. “ They play 
the Eagles to-day.” 

Harold looked at her in some surprise. 

“ I wasn’t aware that ladies took such an 
interest in the game,” he observed. “ I seldom 
follow sporting matters with much enthusiasm 
myself, but base ball is actually forced on your 
attention, beginning at breakfast time, with your 
morning paper, and continuing, in relays, through¬ 
out the day. There’s no business going on at all, 
down town. This penant talk is all you can hear.” 

By this time, they were standing on the out¬ 
skirts of the crowd. 


V 


A Question of Identity 181 

“ There goes Spraker,” shouted a boy at their 
side. 

“ And there’s Warrener,” echoed a stout and 
prosperous looking gentleman ahead of them. 

“ There’s Glendon,” cried a girl’s voice, behind 
them. “ Isn’t he just too sweet? ” 

The first of the taxis, with loudly tooting horn, 
forced a way through the press; then followed a 
second, and a third, until only one was left. The 
crowed, too, was gradually dispersing, so that 
Dorothy and Harold, advancing partly by their own 
volition, partly by the impulse of those behind 
them, were now standing almost opposite the steps 
of the hotel. The remaining players had taken 
their seats in the motor, when Harold suddenly 
started in surprise, and then stood gazing, in open- 
eyed amazement, for the man nearest them bore a 
most remarkable and undeniable resemblance to 
his missing cousin. And at the same instant he 
felt Dorothy’s hand clasp his arm. 

“ It’s Jimmy,” she cried. “ Oh, speak to him, 
please.” 

But Harold was so utterly dumbfounded that 
he did not regain possession of his faculties until 
the taxi was fairly under way. Then he started 
forward. 

“ Jimmy,” he called, but the ball player, if he 


182 


Putting It Over 


heard, gave no sign of recognition, and the motor 
rolled on. Harold turned to the man beside him. 

“ Who was that fellow next to us, on the rear 
seat? ” he asked. 

“ Smith,” the man answered. “ The new star 
they picked up just before they left on their 
western trip. Eight straight games, he’s won for 
them. He’s some pippin, that boy.” 

Harold swung around to Dorothy. 

“ Then it couldn’t have been he,” he said, “ but 
it was surely startling. They say every man on 
earth has a double, and that fellow was certainly 
Jimmy, to the life. I was deceived for a moment, 
I’ll admit.” 

The girl’s face was very pale. 

“ No, no,” she cried, “ it was Jimmy. I don’t 
care what they say. It was Jimmy, I know.” 

Harold pondered. 

“ Do you mind waiting here a moment? ” he 
asked. “ I’ll go into the hotel, and find out if 
he’s staying here. If he is, we can see him when 
he gets back from the game.” 

“ I wish you would,” she answered, and he 
departed, only to return, a few moments later, 
shaking his head. 

“ No,” he reported, “ they’re none of them 
stopping here. But it’s one of the manager’s rules 


A Question of Identity 183 

that they must meet here for dinner every day. 
So I telephoned the Black Sox headquarters, and 
they gave me Smith’s street and number.” 

“ I shall go there,” the girl declared, “ as soon 
as the game is over.” 

Harold hesitated. 

“ Pardon me,” he said. “ It’s none of my 
business, but seeing that we don’t really know 
that it’s Jimmy, and since some of the ball players 
are rather a rough lot, I wish you’d let me go, 
instead.” 

She flushed. 

“ You’re right,” she admitted. “ But will you 
come to me as soon as you find out anything. I 
shall be at home all the evening.” 

“ I will come,” he promised her, “ the mbment 
I have news,” and after escorting her to her house, 
he returned to his office, utterly perplexed by this 
unexpected encounter. At one moment, he was 
inclined to think that the ball player really was his 
cousin; at the next, he was disposed to ridicule 
himself for such a wild belief. And thus the 
afternoon and early evening passed slowly enough, 
until promptly on the stroke of seven o’clock he 
presented himself at the flat which he had been 
told was the joint residence of Mr. “ Buck ” 
Nelson and “ Silent John ” Smith. 


184 


Putting It Over 


The door stood ajar, and he thought that he 
could hear the murmur of voices from within, 
but in the darkness he was unable to find the bell, 
and his repeated knocks brought forth no reply. 
Finally, determined not to abandon his quest, he 
opened the door, found himself in a narrow hall¬ 
way, and guided by a light from a room leading off 
the corridor, he advanced boldly towards it, and 
entered. 

A second later, he awoke to the fact that he had 
made a most unwelcome intrusion, for a smothered 
exclamation, unmistakably feminine, greeted his 
ears, accompanied by a rustle of skirts, as two 
figures, which had been seated together, in close 
proximity, on the sofa at the end of the room, 
rapidly separated, and the masculine one arose 
and came striding forward to meet him. The light 
was none too bright, but Harold felt another shock, 
half of relief, half of further pain, at perceiving 
that beyond all question this was the same man 
whom he had seen in the afternoon, in front of the 
hotel. Yet his perplexity still remained. It was 
Jimmy, and it was not Jimmy. This ball player 
was browner, harder, older; his expression keener 
and less frank. The features were those of Jimmy; 
the expression of mouth and eyes most certainly 
was not. He gazed at his visitor none too 


A Question of Identity 185 

hospitably, and uttered the single monosyllable, 
“ Well?” 

With the burden of explaining his presence thus 
thrust upon him, Harold presented a sorry enough 
appearance. 

“ I beg pardon,” he stammered, feeling like 
an utter fool as he spoke, “ but is this you, 
Jimmy? ” 

The answer was decisive. 

“ Some mistake,” the man replied. “ Name's 
Smith.” 

Harold had never felt more completely baffled. 
What to do next, he did not know, but while he 
stood silent, his host took the initiative. 

“ Let's have a look at you,” he observed, none 
too courteously, and with a sudden movement 
he turned on the flaring gas jet, flooding the room 
with light. 

And at once Harold, for the first time, felt 
convinced that there could be no further question 
of identity. That Jimmy might be masquerading, 
for purposes of his own, was perfectly possible; 
but that this was Jimmy himself he had no doubt 
whatever. And at the thought of his cousin in 
these surroundings — at the sight of the girl seated 
upon the sofa — Harold felt a sensation of distinct 
repugnance. 


186 


Putting It Over 


“ Jimmy,” he asked in desperation, “ what on 
earth does it all mean? ” 

Yet the man, staring back at him without a 
gleam of recognition in his eyes, only frowned at 
the words. 

“ Don’t keep calling me ‘ Jimmy,’ ” he said 
sharply. “ I tell you my name’s Smith.” 

And at this point there came a diversion from 
the sofa, as the young lady rose and came forward. 

“ And who are you, if you please? ” she de¬ 
manded. 

Her tone, rather than the words themselves, 
was far from being to Harold’s liking. 

“ My name is Blake,” he answered shortly, 
“ and I have strong reason to believe —” but at 
this point he broke off abruptly. What was the 
use, he reasoned, in going into explanations with a 
person of this type. 

“ And may I ask, in turn,” he inquired, “ who 
you may be? ” 

She laughed, and lifting her hand, a gleam of 
light flashed from the ring upon her finger. 

“ You may,” she answered carelessly. “ My 
name is Kitty Nelson, and I am engaged to marry 
Mr. Smith. But I think you got awful poor 
manners to come snooping in on us like this, with¬ 
out knocking.” 


A Question of Identity 


187 


“ I did knock/’ maintained the harassed Harold. 
He disliked this young woman cordially. 

“ Not loud enough to hurt/’ she retorted, “ but 
never mind that. What do you come around here, 
calling him ‘ Jimmy/ for? ” 

Harold looked appealingly at his cousin, but in 
vain. There seemed to be nothing to gain by 
remaining. Yet at the thought of Dorothy, he 
put his pride in his pocket, and determined to 
essay one farewell shot. He turned from the girl 
to the man. 

“ Do you care,” he asked, “ to hear a message 
from Miss Dorothy Lawrence? ” 

But if he had expected a melodramatic start of 
surprise, or a muttered ejaculation of dismay, he 
was to be disappointed. His cousin looked at him 
indifferently. 

“ Don’t know her,” he rejoined, and fell back 
upon his former phrase, “ There’s some mistake.” 

Harold felt that he had done all that could be 
done, and with a heavy heart, he turned away. 

“ Excuse me for intruding,” he said stiffly, and 
left the room. 

On his journey toward Dorothy’s home, he 
strove vainly to solve the mystery of Jimmy’s 
strange behavior. That it had something to 
do with the contest between them, he felt no doubt, 


188 


Putting It Over 


but what the necessity could be for this refusal of 
recognition was a matter he was unable to fathom. 
And thus, in answer to Dorothy’s eager query, 
“ What did you learn? ” he could only reply, 
“ I’ve made no headway. I think it’s Jimmy — 
I’m sure it is — but for some reason or other, he 
insists on keeping up the fiction that he is Smith. 
I believe I may have some idea of what the reason 
is, but I’m not at liberty to tell you now. But 
by the twenty-seventh, I think we’ll understand 
everything.” 

She sighed. 

“ I only hope so,” she rejoined; then added, 
“ Did you mention my name? ” 

“Yes,” Harold unwillingly admitted, “I did. 
But apparently it made no impression on him at 
all.” 

There was a long silence. Then, unexpectedly, 
she asked, “ Will you do nie a very great favor? ” 

“ Anything,” Harold answered, “ that’s in my 
power.” 

“ I hate to trouble you,” she said, “ but I feel 
as if I could not endure this doubt any longer. 
I want you to take me to the ball game to-morrow, 
and to get seats in the front row of the grand¬ 
stand, on the side nearer the Black Sox bench. 
Then I can make sure, for myself, whether it is 


A Question of Identity 


189 


Jimmy or not. And if it is, I am going to ask you 
to bring him to see me. I must know what this 
all means.” 

Harold rose to go. 

“ I will take you to the game,” he replied, “ with 
the very greatest pleasure. And I will do my 
utmost to get the seats you wish. I believe that 
he is to pitch to-morrow, so you will have a chance 
to decide for yourself whether or not it is Jimmy. 
But I am not sure that I can make him come to see 
you until after the twenty-seventh.” 

There was another silence before she spoke 
again; then, abruptly, she raised her eyes to his. 

“ You may think me unwomanly,” she said, 
“ but I have one further question to ask. You 
have hinted at a reason for this masquerade. 
I should like you to tell me — do you think — 
have you reason to believe — there is any other 
girl? ” 

Harold, looking at her, realized for the first 
time how bravely she had managed to bear up, 
under this strain. But now he could notice her 
pallor, her weariness, and he knew that to tell her 
the truth would be like stabbing her to the heart. 
And thus, instinct outweighing his cherished 
principles, he lied, sweepingly, shamelessly — 
and like a gentleman. 


190 


Putting It Over 


“No,” he said, with a conviction that amazed 
himself, “ there is no other girl.” 

Immediately, her face cleared. 

“ I am so glad,” she murmured. “ I am sure 
it will all come right. And I thank you so much 
for what you have done. To-morrow, we shall 
really know the truth.” 






CHAPTER XIII 


A PINCH HITTER 

In spite of her efforts to sleep, Dorothy passed 
an anxious, restless night, for the mystery, instead 
of clearing itself, seemed as perplexing as ever; 
and most disconcerting of all, there appeared to 
be but two possible hypotheses to work upon, 
neither of which held out the slightest promise 
of a satisfactory solution. For if this were 
merely a case of a chance resemblance, and the 
man she had seen was not Jimmy Blake, then she 
was no better off than before, but merely back 
where she had started, with nothing of hope in 
sight save that on the twenty-seventh of Septem¬ 
ber, to which Mr. Ellison and Harold had both 
referred with such an air of mystery, Jimmy was 
expected to reappear. And on the other hand, if, 
as Harold seemed to believe, it really were Jimmy, 
then his refusal to recognize his cousin could mean 
but one thing; that he had deliberately trifled 
with her, that his protestations had meant noth¬ 
ing, and that he had no wish to see her again. 
Yet recalling all that had passed between them, 


192 


Putting It Over 


she felt that this was unthinkable, and thus, with 
no answer to the problem, she tossed feverishly 
until mbrning, and arose, hoping that either for 
good or ill, the day might hold something in store 
for her which would bring her suspense to an end. 

First of all, she determined to search the morn¬ 
ing paper for news of the game, and this proved 
to be the easiest task imaginable, for on the very 
front page huge capitals blazoned the fact that the 
Black Sox had won, by a score of four to two, and 
that another victory would bring about a tie for 
the pennant. Smith, she read, had gone in as a 
pinch hitter, and had made a most opportune 
single, which had driven in two runs. Further¬ 
more, he was expected to pitch in the afternoon’s 
game, and with this prospect before her, she laid 
aside the paper, managed somehow to live through 
the long, weary morning, and at two o’clock found 
herself seated in the grandstand, by Harold’s side, 
in a position where they could command an 
unobstructed view of the Black Sox bench. 

Directly behind them a talkative “ fan ” was 
holding forth so audibly that Harold could not 
help but hear him, and was in fact glad to listen, 
for it was this very question of who would pitch 
for the home team that the enthusiast chanced to 
be discussing. 


A Pinch Hitter 


193 


“ No, no / 7 he was saying, “ they won’t start 
Jack Smith. The Eagles are going to put in 
Sullivan, and save Ed Wilson, in case they get 
licked, and the race comes out a tie. So if Mac 
should start Smith, he’d have no one left for the 
play-off. It’s going to be young Cauley; that’s 
who it will be. Sullivan for the Eagles and Cauley 
for the Black Sox.” 

“ But Smith’s warming up,” his companion 
objected. 

“ I know he is,” the loud voiced one replied, 
“ but not as if he really meant business. It’s only 
to be ready, in case they have to pull Cauley out. 
Smith won’t start the game; you wait and see.” 

“ Ah, you know a lot about the Black Sox, 
don’t you? ” jeered the scoffing friend. 

“ You bet I do,” was the complacent rejoinder. 
“ You see, I know Joe Stone, and Spraker, and 
Buck Nelson, and all of the boys. So I get the 
real inside talk. Why, take it about this Smith, 
now. Most people don’t know the true story of 
how the Black Sox picked him up. But I heard 
the whole thing, right from Stone himself.” 

Harold stole a glance at Dorothy, but it was 
evident that she was not listening. Her eyes were 
fixed on “ Silent John ” Smith, and her expression 
was one of doubt. This man did not pitch as 


194 


Putting It Over 


Jimmy had pitched; so much was certain. He 
used more of a side arm delivery, while Jimmy’s 
style had been an out and out overhand swing. 
Yet in every other respect he resembled Jimmy, 
and the puzzle remained as involved as ever. 

Harold, in the meantime, was keeping his ears 
open. 

“ So you,” the friend was sarcastically observ¬ 
ing, “ know all about it.” 

“ I certainly do,” replied the man of knowl¬ 
edge. “ It seems that Smith became acquainted 
with Buck, and Buck let him come to the park to 
watch the morning practice. Smith had a kind of 
a natural eye for base ball, and he used to give 
Buck pointers on the way the team was going. 
Finally, he began to bet on the games, and turned 
out to be a perfect shark at picking winners. 
Buck has told me himself that he never saw any¬ 
thing like it; just seemed as though Smith 
couldn’t lose if he tried.” 

“ Ah, go on,” cried the incredulous one. “ Nel¬ 
son was stringing you. Nobody but a bookmaker 
ever wins any money at base ball. You don’t 
mean to say he came out ahead of the game? ” 

Harold was listening with painful intentness, 
for the meaning of Jimmy’s masquerade at last 
seemed clear to him. 


A Pinch Hitter 


195 


“ Ahead of the game? ” the enthusiast repeated. 
“ Well, you bet he did. Buck told me he’d seen 
his bank book, when it showed over three thousand 
dollars to the good. And that was before he 
signed with the team.” 

Harold felt the grandstand revolving about 
him. Here was bad news, with a vengeance. 
Doubt became certainty; Jimmy had sunk his 
identity in that of Smith, to learn the inner work¬ 
ings of the Black Sox ball team, and to convert his 
knowledge into money. But at what a price. To 
make love to Nelson’s sister, and to have become 
engaged, or to pretend to have become engaged, to 
her. And at the thought of Dorothy sitting there 
beside him, eating her heart out with anxiety, hot 
resentment against his cousin surged within him. 

“ What a skunk,” he muttered to himself. 

And now the signal was given for the beginning 
of the game, the players took their positions in the 
field, and as the man behind them had predicted, 
it became evident that Cauley, and not Smith, 
was to do the pitching. 

Dorothy’s face clouded. 

“ We’ve come for nothing,” she said. “ While 
they are sitting on the bench, I can’t distinguish 
one man from another.” 

“ They may put him in as a pinch hitter,” 


196 Putting It Over 

Harold replied. “But what do you think? Is it 
Jimmy? ” 

“ I can’t make up my mind/’ she answered. 
“ For one thing, he doesn’t pitch as Jimmy used to. 
And then it doesn’t seem possible, anyway. What 
is your opinion? The same as it was last night? ” 

But Harold, thinking now only of averting the 
meeting between them, lied once more. 

“ I’m not as sure as I was,” he admitted. “ I 
don’t think the resemblance is so strong, after all.” 

By this time, the game had begun, and the 
infectious enthusiasm of the crowd around them 
made them forget, for the time being, the errand 
that had brought them there, in the excitement of 
watching the contest itself. 

From the very start, the struggle was a close 
one. Both Sullivan and Cauley were hit fairly 
hard, but to offset this both teams played wonder¬ 
ful ball in the field, and it was one of those games 
in which, though it abounded with “ ifs ” and 
“ buts,” actual runs were few and scattering, so 
that they came to the last of the ninth with the 
score two to one in favor of the Eagles, and 
the loyal “ rooters ” cheering the Black Sox to 
the echo. 

The inning was opened auspiciously by Dough¬ 
erty’s drawing a base on balls. Then Glendon, 


A Pinch Hitter 


197 


the reliable, followed with a sharp single to 
right, and Warrener sacrificed by laying down the 

conventional bunt. Thus, with men on second and 

/ 

third, and only one out, the Black Sox’ chances for 
the game looked bright, and when Engstrom’s 
smash to the pitcher bounced off Sullivan’s shins, 
the tieing run came across, and there were still 
men on first and third, with but one run needed 
for the victory. At this juncture, Sullivan began 
to weaken, and after he had given Driscoll, the 
next batter, a base on balls, he was promptly taken 
out, and the lanky Wilson was put in, in his place. 

The wisdom of the change was at once apparent, 
for though Buck Nelson was one of the surest 
hitters on the Black Sox team, Wilson struck him 
out on three pitched balls, and in a second the 
whole complexion of the game was changed. Yet 
one chance remained, and as so often happens, 
it was the pitcher, at the very bottom of the list, 
whose turn it was to bat. Obviously, this was 
the time to send in a “ pinch hitter,” and the man 
behind them recalled himself to Harold’s notice by 
bellowing, “ Smith! Smith! Put in Smith!” 

His knowledge of the game seemed, indeed, to 
be quite extraordinary, for as if in answer to his 
call, Smith stepped from the dugout, selected a 
bat from the heap, and walked slowly toward the 


198 


Putting It Over 


plate; then, seeing that Wilson and the Eagles’ 
catcher were in consultation, half way to the box, 
he stopped a moment, and as it so chanced, 
directly in front of where Dorothy and Harold 
were sitting. 

“ Now,” the man of wisdom was clamoring, 
“ you’ll just about see him break up the game, the 
way he did yesterday. Think of putting in a 
pitcher for a pinch hitter. Ed Walsh is the only 
other man in the country that they used the way 
they do this boy.” 

“ What’s Smith’s average? ” inquired the scepti¬ 
cal friend. 

“ Three, eighty-three for eight games,” replied 
the authority. “ He’s a peach. You just watch 
him now.” 

Dorothy, leaning forward in her seat, was gaz¬ 
ing intently at the pinch hitter, as he stood near 
the dugout, swinging his bat in his muscular hands. 
One would have said that he was the most dis¬ 
interested man on the grounds. He stood there 
idly, calmly, as if nothing depended on him, and 
presently, as the conference between Wilson and 
the catcher still continued, he even allowed his 
eyes to wander over the crowd in the grandstand. 
Dorothy could see his glance passing from one 
face to another, along the front row, and knew 


A Pinch Hitter 


199 


that unless something happened to distract him, 
his eyes must soon meet hers. Yet when the 
moment came, no start or tremor, no shock of 
recognition, followed, but his gaze dwelt upon her 
for an instant, and was then deliberately averted. 

Dorothy felt a throb of actual physical pain, 
for this man was Jimmy — she felt certain of it 
now — and even if this were some elaborate 
masquerade, undertaken for some purpose of 
which she knew nothing, still she felt that there 
should have been a smile, a gesture, a nod, some¬ 
thing at least to reassure her. But this impassive, 
almost contemptuous scrutiny, pierced her to the 
heart. There was no further use, she sadly 
reflected, in remaining at the game. Only, for 
her own peace of mind, she determined that she 
would ask Harold to bring his cousin to see her, and 
that in one brief and painful interview she would 
demand, and receive from him, the explanation of 
his conduct toward her. 

“ Could you take me home? ” she asked Harold, 
but as he looked about them at the grandstand, 
crowded to the aisles with a shrieking, incoherent 
multitude, he shook his head. 

“ It would be as much as our lives are worth,” 
he answered. “ And it will only be a few moments 
now, at the most. We shall have to wait.” 


200 


Putting It Over 


She glanced around her, as he had done, and 
knew that he spoke the truth. 

“ Yes, you’re right,” she acknowledged, and 
settled back resignedly in her chair. 

By this time, Wilson had resumed his place in 
the box; Smith had stepped to the plate; and the 
crisis was fairly at hand. With the bases full, and 
two men out, either a hit or a base on balls would 
win the game; both for the pitcher and the batter, 
the situation was a trying one. 

The first ball pitched went wide. So did the 
second. And though the third, which according 
to all precedent should have cut the plate, looked 
to the spectators like a good one, yet the umpire’s 
arm hung motionless at his side, and the count 
was three balls and no strikes. The Black Sox 
supporters were roaring their approval, for al¬ 
though a smashing base hit would have made a 
more dramatic ending to the game, yet the strain 
had been too great for them to care whether they 
won through the good playing of the Black Sox, or 
through the errors of their opponents. The vic¬ 
tory was what they wanted, and at the moment it 
seemed to be almost a certainty. 

Wilson, cool and deliberate in this most un¬ 
pleasant predicament, took even more than his 
usual time for winding up. Lannigan, the best 


A Pinch Hitter 


201 


signal stealer in the game, coaching on third, called 
out, “ Steady, boy, steady,” and according to the 
code, Smith knew that he must expect a fast, 
straight one. Yet there was no question as to his 
play, for Maguire had motioned from the bench 
that he was to let it go by. Then Wilson drew 
back his arm, and let drive, and the ball sped 
directly over the plate. Strike one. A ray of 
hope remained to the Eagles. 

There were now two possible plays for Smith 
to make. Either to hit at the next ball, if it were 
a good one, or else to continue to wait. Either 
alternative was permissible, and Maguire chose 
the latter, but though a slip, a spike catching in the 
dirt, the least accident of any kind, would have 
lost the game for the Eagles, Wilson’s nerve held 
true, and a beautiful drop came shooting across the 
plate. 

And now the count was three and two, and the 
advantage had shifted to the enemy. But Wilson 
was evidently determined to take no chances, for 
again he walked forward to meet his catcher, and 
once more a lengthy consultation ensued. Finally, 
they returned to their positions, with their plans 
decided on, but whether they had determined to 
let him hit, or whether they hoped to strike him 
out, no one but themselves could tell. 


202 


Putting It Over 


Lannigan, on the third base coaching line, was 
watching eagerly for some sign as to what the next 
ball would be. He had only a second or two in 
which to make up his mind, but from his study of 
Wilson’s delivery, he felt sure that he knew what 
was coming, and putting his hands to his mouth 
to make himself heard above the din, he shouted 
at the top of his lungs, “ Take your time, Jack; 
take your time.” 

Smith heard, and knew that Lannigan’s words 
meant that the next ball was to be an out curve. 
And thus, if the signal stealer was right, his course 
was plain. If the ball came toward the right, or 
even toward the centre of the plate, he must let 
it go by, no matter how tempting it appeared; but 
if it looked like a bad one, coming to the left of the 
plate, he must strike at it when it broke to the 
right. The whole matter, to be sure, was a gam¬ 
ble, but Lannigan was seldom mistaken, and the 
chances were that he was now making the correct 
guess. 

Wilson drew back his arm; the ball came whiz¬ 
zing toward the plate, and in the fraction of time 
permitted to him, Smith saw that it was coming 
to the left, directly in line with himself. Instantly, 
therefore, in accordance with his plan, he braced 
himself to swing, mentally selecting the spot over 





WHAT HAPPENED TO SMITH 


Page 203 




A Pinch Hitter 


203 


second base where he intended to place his hit. 
And now the moment had come — he drew back 
— and then followed a blow — a world of flaming, 
roaring lights — then utter blackness and oblivion. 

A cry of triumph had burst forth from the 
crowd, for to them the ball that had struck Smith 
fairly in the head meant the winning of the game, 
but the next instant their shouts were stilled, for 
the batter, instead of struggling to his feet, lay 
motionless, face downward, upon the field. 

In a moment, Maguire and Nelson were at his 
side; at their heels came the trainer, with a bucket 
of water in his hand. Then followed the inevi¬ 
table pressing in of players and substitutes, until 
presently the group broke asunder, and Buck and 
the manager, carrying Smith’s body in their arms, 
made hastily for the gate. As they passed, 
Dorothy could see that the injured man’s head 
hung limp, and that his arms dangled helplessly. 
Behind them some one cried sharply, “ By God, 
he’s dead,” and Dorothy felt a great fear clutching 
at her heart. 

“ Can you find out where they’re taking him? ” 
she asked, and Harold answered, “ I’ll try, but 
I must get you out of here first.” 

Borne along in the midst of the surging throng, 
it seemed ages before they regained the open air. 


204 


Putting It Over 


Then Harold left her, returned minus a dollar 
bill, but with the desired information, and a 
moment later a taxi was bearing them swiftly 
away from the grounds. 

“ Doctor Mansfield’s private hospital,” he told 
Dorothy. “ He’s the Black Sox physician. They 
reached him by telephone, and he’ll be at the 
hospital when they arrive.” 

“ He isn’t — he isn’t dead? ” she faltered. 

“ No,” he answered. “ His heart was beating, 
though he hadn’t regained consciousness. But 
it’s not as bad as that, I’m sure; he’ll be all right.” 

He spoke hopefully, with intent to cheer her, 
for the strain of the past few days had been severe 
enough, without this tragic and unexpected end¬ 
ing, and she looked as though she were on the 
point of fainting. 

Neither spoke again until the motor stopped at 
the doctor’s door. There they alighted, and 
hastened quickly up the steps. 

“ Probably,” observed Harold, “ they won’t 
let us in. But we’ll try our best to get by.” 

To their surprise, however, they found the door 
ajar, and no one in sight, and hearing the sound of 
footsteps on the floor above them, they took 
advantage of the situation, and made haste to 
mount the stairs. 


A Pinch Hitter 


205 


Half way down the corridor, they could hear a 
sharp voice issuing orders, and peering in at the 
open door, they saw the doctor, assisted by two 
nurses, working over the prostrate figure on the 
bed, while nearer them stood Buck Nelson and 
another man in civilian’s clothes. 

The first words they heard were of good cheer. 

“ It’s all right, Buck,” the doctor was saying. 
“ We’ll fetch him around. Just a question of 
time, now. He’ll be all right.” 

And suddenly, as if in response to the words, the 
figure on the bed twitched, stirred, and finally, 
with unlooked-for strength, half rose from the bed 
with a peculiar, spasmodic motion, and stared 
wildly about the room. The next instant, his 
eyes had fallen upon the girl in the doorway, and 
in glaring contrast to his behavior at the park, his 
whole face lighted with a look of recognition, sur¬ 
prise, and of joy unspeakable. 

“ Dorothy! ” he cried, and then, even as the 
doctor wheeled in amazement, Smith’s figure 
swayed, and he fell back, with eyes closed, upon 
the bed. 

“ Great God! ” stormed the doctor. “ Get out 
of here, whoever you are.” 

He turned to the man in civilian’s clothes. 

“ Go down stairs, Joe,” he ordered, “ and keep 


206 


Putting It Over 


these people there, until I come. Do you think 
I'm going to save the man, to have him killed 
again? ” 

Thoroughly frightened, Dorothy and Harold 
withdrew, and waited patiently below. There 
was a long silence before Dorothy asked, “ What 
can it all mean? ” 

Harold helplessly shook his head. Why Jimmy 
should have refused them recognition, first at the 
flat, then at the park, and yet should have given 
Dorothy such a greeting here, was a mystery he 
could not solve. 

Upstairs, Buck, too, wondered, as he watched 
the doctor at his work. 

“ Wdio was the dame? ” he mused. “ Never 
saw Jack act quite so lively as that.” And after 
further meditation, he added to himself, “ If Kit 
had seen it, I bet she’d have thrown a fit.” 

Presently the doctor rose, and came toward the 
door, motioning one of the nurses to follow him. 

“ What’s the news, Doc? ” asked Buck. 

“ He’s asleep,” the doctor answered, and turning 
to the nurse, “ We must have absolute quiet,” 
he commanded. “ What he most needs, and what 
I expect him to enjoy, is a long, unbroken slumber. 
I shall not leave the hospital to-night. Call me 
the moment he wakes.” 


CHAPTER XIY 

THE PATIENT IMPROVES 

The morning sunshine, streaming gloriously in 
at the open window, at length awakened Jimmy 
from his slumbers. For a moment or two, 
bewildered by his strange surroundings, he lay 
staring about him in blank amazement, until 
suddenly, with a rush of light and color, the scenes 
of the day before swept and surged, like a stream¬ 
ing torrent, across his brain. 

Incident after incident, he recalled them all. 
Dorothy’s departure, his supper at the club, the 
talk with Hollister and their trip to the theatre; 
then the meeting with Kitty Nelson, Hollister’s 
mad leadership of the mob, the tumult in the 
audience and the ringing down of the curtain; 
and finally the real fight behind the scenes, his 
struggle in the alley against his three assailants — 
and then — and then — 

But at this point the thread of memory abruptly 
snapped. Try as he might, from that moment on, 
the past was closed to him, save for one other 



208 


Putting It Over 


fancy, confused and faint, of the faces of Dorothy 
and Harold gazing at him across the room, their 
countenances blurred and indistinct, as if peering 
through a mist. 

To this last vision, however, he paid small heed, 
for his common sense told him that it could have 
been nothing but a dream, and he accordingly 
dismissed it from his mind, and began, instead, to 
try to conjecture what had befallen him. 

From the furnishings, and from the general 
appearance of the room, it was clear that he was 
in a hospital, and with this as a starting point, it 
was not difficult to hazard a guess as to what had 
happened to him on the night before. Evidently, 
he must have lost consciousness during the fight at 

r \ 

the theatre, and with equal certainty someone 
must have taken charge of him, and have sent him 
here to be cared for. How seriously, he wondered, 
had he been hurt, and thereupon raised himself, 
somewhat gingerly, from the bed, in order to ascer¬ 
tain the extent of his injuries. To his joy, he 
appeared to have the full use of his limbs, but his 
head ached savagely, and lifting his hand to his 
forehead, he found that it was swathed in band¬ 
ages. 

“ That settles it,” he said to himself. “ One 
of those guys swung on me, and put me to sleep,” 


The Patient Improves 


209 


and with his accident thus satisfactorily explained, 
he sank back contentedly enough among the 
pillows. 

And now, with his immediate surroundings so 
plainly accounted for, he let his mind range still 
further back over the events of the preceding day, 
and his heart sank at the remembrance of the ball 
game, the steeplechase, and the unexpected rise 
in Steel. Everything had gone against him — 
in each case, to be sure, by the narrowest of 
margins, but still against him — and he frowned 
to think how recklessly he had thrown away the 
advantage he had gained, so that instead of lead¬ 
ing his cousin, he was now behind him in the race. 
Yet he comforted himself with the reflection that 
this was only the beginning, and that plenty of 
time for making up lost ground still remained. 

“ Ill get hold of Walton to-day,” he determined, 
“ and find out all about this pearl business. That 
is, if theyll let me out of here. I wonder why no 
one comes. I want my breakfast.” 

For some moments longer, he lay waiting, with 
constantly growing impatience, for somebody to 
appear, until presently his eyes, glancing about the 
room, fell on a newspaper, neatly folded over the 
back of a chair, near the window. 

“ Ill get that, anyway,” he decided. “ There 11 


210 


Putting It Over 


probably be headlines about last night/ 7 and 
putting first one foot and then the other over the 
side of the bed, he fought away a slight giddiness, 
crossed the room, captured his prize, and made his 
way safely back again. 

“ Now then/ 7 he murmured, “ we 7 11 find out the 
news, 77 and unfolding the paper, he glanced 
mechanically, through force of long habit, at the 
date at the top of the page. But as he did so, he 
suddenly caught his breath, gazing at the letters 
with dilated eyes, and feeling as though the earth 
were whirling around him; for the month was not 
June, as it should have been, nor was it July, nor 
August, but incredible and monstrous as it ap¬ 
peared, was September. September the twenty- 
fourth. He rubbed his eyes, muttered, “ I 7 m 
dreaming, 77 and then, half fearfully, looked again. 

But there was no mistake. September twenty- 
fourth; as clear as type could print it. A sudden 
sickening dread swept over him. 

“ Heavens! 77 he cried, under his breath. 
“ What’s the matter with me? I must be stark, 
staring mad. 77 

But despite his words, there seemed, upon 
reflection, to be no sense in this hypothesis. 
Apart from the pain in his head, which was not 
now nearly so severe, he had never felt better in his 


The Patient Improves 


211 


life. His brain was clear; he felt his pulse; it was 
beating a trifle rapidly, but as steadily as a clock. 

“ No,” he decided, “ I’m sane enough,” and in 
desperation, turned once more to the paper, with 
visions of a possible misprint in his mind. Yet 
there was surely no mistake. Every piece of 
news, each different despatch, all bore the same 
date, and the black type on the front page, instead 
of dealing with the misadventure at the theatre, 
told the story of the thrilling final game for the 
pennant between the Black Sox and the Eagles. 

For the moment, even the subject of base ball 
failed to interest him, yet partly from force of our 
great National habit, partly because his brain was 
so benumbed that it was incapable of consecutive 
thought, he mechanically read the headlines 
through. The Black Sox, it appeared, had been 
one game behind, and to prevent the pennant from 
going to their rivals, it had been necessary for 
them to win a victory. This they had done, by a 
score of three to two, and the race was now a tie, 
to be played off, two days later, on the home 
grounds. Smaller capitals spoke of “ Silent John ” 
Smith, the Black Sox pitcher, who had gone in, 
in the ninth, as a pinch hitter, and had been 
knocked out by one of Ed Wilson’s fast inshoots. 

But Jimmy read no more. Black Sox or Eagles, 


212 


Putting It Over 


it was all one to him, for his mind had now leaped 
suddenly alive again, and he had no further leisure 
to think of anything else except his own per¬ 
plexities. Somehow, somewhere, three months 
had vanished from his life, and as the fact became 
certainty, his first thought was of Dorothy. 

“ What on earth will she think of me? ” he 
murmured. “ Three months without a letter.” 
And all at once, with a gasp, he recalled his im¬ 
pression of her face, with Harold’s, gazing at him 
across the room. 

“ It was true, then,” he concluded. “ Brain 
fever — that’s what I’ve had. And Dorothy was 
notified, and came on here. And of course they 
told Harold, since he’s my nearest relative. 
Naturally, he would like to keep track of how I 
was getting on.” 

And at the thought of Harold, the urgency of 
the situation with respect to the contest between 
them drove all else from his mind. Only three 
days were left, but he breathed a sigh of thankful¬ 
ness to think that even that narrow space of time 
remained. Yet one thing was certain; every 
moment was of value; and he was on the point of 
arising, when a pretty nurse entered the room, 
somewhat hurriedly, as if conscious of having 
stayed away too long from her post. 


The Patient Improves 


213 


Jimmy decided to waste no time in formalities. 

“ Hullo/’ he hailed. “ What place is this? ” 

The nurse’s manner was highly professional. 

“ This is Doctor Mansfield’s private hospital,” 
she answered; “ but don’t talk, please. I must 
tell the doctor at once. He wished to be notified 
as soon as you were awake.” 

She turned, and left the room. 

“ Doctor Mansfield,” Jimmy repeated to him¬ 
self. The name was unfamiliar to him. “ I 
suppose he’s the boss,” he surmised. “ Well, 
now we’ll be finding out things. I hope to heaven 
he’s a good sort of chap.” 

Upon this point, his mind was soon to be set at 
rest, for almost immediately a brisk step sounded 
in the corridor, and a smooth shaven, youngish 
looking man came quickly into the room, bringing 
with him a general atmosphere of cheerfulness, 
alertness, and professional skill. 

“ Well,” he greeted Jimmy, “ and how are we 
feeling this morning? Better, I’m sure of it. 
You’re looking fit as can be.” 

But there were other matters which interested 
Jimmy more than his physical condition. 

“ Yes, I feel first-rate,” he answered. “ But 
tell me this, Doctor. How long have I been 
here? ” 


214 


Putting It Over 


“ Just wait a moment/’ the doctor evaded. 
“ Let me look you over first, and then we’ll talk.” 

The examination, though thorough, was made 
swiftly and with deftness. 

“ Good,” was his verdict, when he had finished. 
“ You’re getting on splendidly. Takes a lot to kill 
some people, doesn’t it? Now then, what were 
you asking me? How long you had been here? ” 

“ Yes,” Jimmy assented. “ I think my head’s a 
bit queer. I seem to be hazy about a lot of things.” 

The doctor nodded assent. 

“ That’s natural enough,” he said. “ Don’t 
let it worry you in the least; it will all wear off. 
And as to the time you’ve been here, that’s easily 
answered. They brought you here at five o’clock, 
yesterday afternoon.” 

Once more, Jimmy experienced the sensation 
of feeling the world turn upside down. “ Three 
months,” had been the answer he had expected, 
and the reply would have made everything plain 
to him, but now he was wholly at sea again. 
Five o’clock, yesterday afternoon. The connec¬ 
tion between the theatre and the hospital was thus 
hopelessly destroyed, and his confusion was 
greater than ever. There was no denying the 
fact of the missing three months; but where, and 
how, had they been spent? His perplexity must 


The Patient Improves 


215 


have been evident in his face, for the doctor, eyeing 
him keenly, asked quickly, “ Not feeling just the 
thing? ” 

Jimmy rallied. At the risk of appearing an 
utter idiot, he must discover the truth. 

“ No, I’m all right,” he answered. “ But 
Doctor, what day is this? ” 

“ Twenty-fourth of September,” was the 
doctor’s answer, and with the words Jimmy’s 
last hope as to the date vanished in thin air. So 
that presently he asked, “ Ever happen to have a 
case of loss of memory? ” 

The doctor nodded. 

“ Yes, several,” he answered. “ Why? Is that 
the way you feel? ” 

“ It sure is,” Jimmy agreed. “ I think, Doctor, 
if you don’t mind, you’ll have to help me out a 
little. Will you tell me about yesterday? Who 
brought me here? ” 

“ Buck,” the doctor responded. “ Mac couldn’t 
leave, very well, so he sent Buck with you instead.” 

Jimmy reflected. “ Mac ” suggested nothing 
to his mind, but the name of “ Buck ” did sound 
familiar, and it took him only a moment to remem¬ 
ber that it was by that name that Kitty Nelson 
had spoken of her brother. Between the injury 
at the theatre, then, and the fact of Kitty’s 


216 


Putting It Over 


brother having brought him to the hospital, there 
seemed to be a possible connection, and with the 
feeling of the man who fires the last shot from the 
locker, he asked, in what he tried hard to make 
appear a nonchalant tone, “ Buck? You mean 
Buck Nelson? ” 

“ Of course,” the doctor answered, and a wave 
of thankfulness swept over Jimmy. This, then, 
was no horror of insanity; merely a mystery that, 
given the time and the patience, could finally be 
solved. And he was on the point of questioning 
further, when the doctor observed, “ Don’t keep 
worrying about your memory. That will come 
right again, very soon. What you want now is 
some breakfast, and then another nap. And I 
must say,” he added encouragingly, “ that I’m 
most agreeably surprised at your condition. In 
spite of your bump, I really can’t remember, since 
I’ve known you, when I’ve seen you looking 
as well, and acting as well, as you do this 
morning.” 

The words, under ordinary circumstances, might 
have sounded commonplace enough, but coming 
just at this time, they possessed a special meaning 
for Jimmy. “ Since I’ve known you,” the doctor 
had said. Very likely, here was the key to the 
whole^ affair. 


The Patient Improves 


217 


“ Doctor/’ he said earnestly, “ I’ve got to get 
this thing straightened out in my mind. It will 
worry me into a fever, if I don’t. Please tell me 
this. How long have you and I known each 
other? ” 

The doctor considered for a moment, and this 
time his answer was the one which Jimmy had 
previously expected to hear. 

“ Oh,” he replied, “ a matter of three months.” 
Then added, “ Ever since you came to Buck’s.” 

The words rang musically in Jimmy’s ears. 

“ And when I came to Buck’s,” he asked, “ was 
that after the row at the theatre? ” 

The doctor nodded. 

“ Exactly,” he assented. “ You see, it’s just 
as I told you. Everything will come back to you. 
Just give yourself time. A man doesn’t get a 
crack like this every day in the year.” 

Jimmy pondered. Clearly enough, he had 
received not only one injury, but two, and every¬ 
thing except the mystery of the intervening period 
was at last made plain. And thus he nerved him¬ 
self for the question that he half dreaded to ask. 

“ Doctor,” he observed, “ this sounds like a fool 
thing to say, but let me get it off my chest, and 
then I won’t bother you any more. What have I 
been doing, the last three months? ” 


218 


Putting It Over 


For the first time in the interview, the doctor 
looked surprised, and he gazed at Jimmy long and 
earnestly before he at length replied, “Why, after 
you got over the fever, Buck happened to find out 
that you could pitch, and then you signed with the 
Black Sox. And a lucky thing for them that you 
did,” he added genially. “ They would never have 
tied the Eagles if it hadn’t been for you. Eight 
straight wins, and no defeats, is certainly going 
some.” 

The last doubts vanished from Jimmy’s mind. 
At first, indeed, only an inkling of the real truth 
came to him, namely, that in some mysterious way 
he had been playing ball with the Black Sox, but 
all at once, like the sun bursting through the fog, 
he recalled his talk with Kitty Nelson, and remem¬ 
bered that he had given the name of John Smith 
as his own. And the name of the injured Black 
Sox pitcher had been the same. Obviously, there 
could be no doubt as to what had happened. And 
made bold by his newly acquired knowledge, he 
made a tremendous, and quite theatrical, bluff. 

“ Of course,” he cried. “ Now I remember 
everything. Only tell me more about yesterday, 
Doctor. I went in as a pinch hitter, didn’t I, in 
the ninth? ” 

The doctor’s expression was one of relief. 


The Patient Improves 


219 


“Yes,” he assented, “ and Ed Wilson sent in 
one of his fast inshoots, and ‘ beaned ’ you. 
Lucky it didn’t kill you. It very easily might 
have.” 

With a long sigh, Jimmy sank back on the 
pillow. He knew the truth, at last, but problem 
after problem still remained to be solved. And 
as the vision of Dorothy and Harold suddenly 
came back to him, he asked, “ Did I dream it, 
Doctor, or did a lady and gentleman come here, 
last night, to see how I was getting on? ” 

The doctor frowned at the remembrance. 

“ They did,” he answered. “ Reardon, the door 
man, is a ‘ fan/ and a great admirer of yours, and 
in the excitement, he left his post, so that your 
friends, with no one to stop them, came upstairs, 
and were in the room before we knew it. You 
were just regianing consciousness, and when you 
saw them, you fainted. The young lady left her 
address and telephone number. I am to let her 
know this morning how you are getting along.” 

Jimmy’s heart bounded. 

“ Doctor,” he asked abruptly, “ When may I 
leave here? ” 

The doctor hesitated. 

“ Why, if you were an ordinary patient,” he re¬ 
plied, “ I should feel that I ought to keep you here 


220 


Putting It Over 


at least a week, just to be on the safe side. But 
of course, when it conies to toughness, you ball 
players are in a class by yourselves. And with the 
play-off scheduled for day after to-morrow, the 
big question is whether or not you will be able to 
start the game. Mac is crazy to have you pitch, 
and to be frank, I can’t see any reason why you 
shouldn’t. But we needn’t settle that now. You 
must have some breakfast, and another nap, and 
around noon I’ll look in again.” 

He had already risen to take his leave, when the 
nurse entered, with a card in her hand. The 
doctor read it, and smiled. 

“ He hasn’t lost much time,” he observed. 
Then, to Jimmy, “ Here’s Mac, now. We’ll let 
him see you for half a second, and then no more 
callers, on any pretext whatsoever.” 

A moment later, Mr. Patrick Maguire hurriedly 
entered. 

“ Morning, Doc,” he saluted the physician, 
and drawing a chair up to the bed, he sat down, and 
gazed shrewdly at his crack pitcher. 

“ Well, how’s the boy? ” he asked. 

Jimmy could not help smiling, for just at this 
juncture, the impersonal form of address seemed 
particularly appropriate. 

“ Oh, I’m first rate,” he answered, and added, 


221 


The Patient Improves 

with a double meaning that was entirely lost on the 
stocky little Irishman, “ I really feel like myself 
again.” 

Maguire beamed. 

“ That’s fine,” he ejaculated. “ My heart was 
in my mouth when Wilson laid you out. And poor 
Lannigan, that tipped you off to the signal; he 
says he’ll never try to steal another one, as long as 
he lives. Though I told him it was no fault of 
his.” 

Jimmy found it easy to guess how the accident 
had occurred. 

“ Of course it wasn’t,” he answered. “ He 
was doing the best he could. He made the wrong 
guess; that was all.” 

He spoke cheerfully, for in spite of its serious¬ 
ness, some aspects of the affair had an adventur¬ 
ous, almost a romantic flavor; but Maguire’s 
next query brought him suddenly back to real life. 

“ Can you pitch by day after to-morrow, 
Jack? ” he asked. “ That’s what we’ve got to 
think of now. What do you say, Doc? ” 

“ Why, speaking professionally,” the doctor 
answered, “ I think he can. That is to say, he 
could go into the box, and last nine innings, with¬ 
out danger to himself. But whether he would be 
as effective as he was before this happened, I 


222 


Putting It Over 


don’t know. That’s something for you and Jack 
to decide for yourselves.” 

Maguire nodded. 

“ And it’s a damned important something,” he 
declared. “ Because it means the difference be¬ 
tween a pennant lost, and a pennant won. But 
there’s this to comfort you, kid,” he added to 
Jimmy. “ Even if you pitch, and they knock you 
out of the box, you’ve got nothing to feel bad 
about, for the rest of the staff is all shot to pieces. 
Old Jack Martin is all that’s left, and he was 
always easy for these fellows, even when he was 
going good against the other teams. So it’s a 
case of nothing to lose, and everything to gain. 
And if you can pull it off, why it means the pen¬ 
nant, and on top of that a cinch on the world’s 
series, and a pot of money for every man on the 
team. So there you are. What do you think, 
Jack? ” 

The humor of the situation faded rapidly from 
Jimmy’s mind, for he was “ fan ” enough to realize 
the truth of all that Maguire had said, and as to 
whether he could win the game, he had not the 
slightest idea. From what the doctor had said 
about his eight straight victories, he knew that 
while he had been, as it were, pitching subconscious 
ball, he must have been a wonder; but whether 


The Patient Improves 


223 


now, in his sober senses, he could do as well, was 
a problem which left him wholly at sea. 

“ I don't know,” he confessed. “ But if the 
doctor will let me out of here this afternoon, I’ll 
go to the park with Buck to-morrow morning, and 
try myself out. I can give you an answer then, 
in short order.” 

“ You’re right,” Maguire agreed. “ That’s what 
we’ll do.” 

“ And now,” the doctor observed, “ it’s a case 
of everybody out, and no further calling allowed. 
I’ll drop in about one o’clock, and mind you do 
nothing in the meantime but rest, eat and sleep.” 

Jimmy promised, with entire willingness, for 
no one could continue indefinitely at the rate at 
which he had been living for the past hour. Yet 
after all, he had to call the doctor back for one 
more question. 

“ What is Buck’s address? ” he asked. “ Can’t 
remember it, to save my life.” 

The doctor supplied it. 

“ Oh, by the way,” he added, “ Kitty was here 
last night, and again this morning, asking to see 
you. But I felt that it would be rather too excit¬ 
ing. Still, you can probably find her this after¬ 
noon. Journeys end, you know — ” and with a 
laugh, he departed. 


224 


Putting It Over 


Fortunately for Jimmy’s peace of mind, the 
quotation was not familiar to him. But some¬ 
thing in the doctor’s tone, and in the way he had 
laughed, disturbed him. 

“ Kitty,” he repeated, “ and journeys end. 
Now I wonder what the devil he meant by that? ” 


CHAPTER XV 


ANOTHER MAN’S SHOES 

Three o’clock in the afternoon found Jimmy, a 
trifle uncertain in the knees, but otherwise as good 
as ever, waiting expectantly in the parlor of 
Dorothy’s home. And presently he heard her 
footstep on the stairs, the portieres opened, and 
she came quickly into the room. 

Instantly, he was on his feet, and forgetting all 
else in the joy of seeing her again, he started for¬ 
ward, as if to take her in his arms; but for her, the 
past, with its mysteries, its silences, its cold refusal 
of recognition, rose between them, like a barrier, 
and her gesture, almost of repulsion, brought him 
to a sudden halt. 

“ I think,” she said, in a voice which she tried 
vainly to keep under control, “ that you have a 
very great deal to explain.” 

Yet as he answered her, his words, his tone, his 
whole bearing, all were eloquent of sincerity and 
truth. 

“ Dorothy dear,” he cried, “ I don’t wonder 
you doubt me. Heaven only knows what you 


226 


Putting It Over 


must have thought — what you must think now — 
only, before I say another word, let me tell you 
this. I can explain everything. If you’ll only 
listen to me, that’s all I ask. And you’ll be will¬ 
ing to do that, I know.” 

And Dorothy, as she heard him, realized that 
the man called Smith had vanished, and that here, 
in his place, as if by some miracle, was the real 
Jimmy — the Jimmy she had known three months 
ago — and thus, with a great hope dawning in her 
heart, she answered, “ Of course I will. Most 
gladly,” and would have seated herself, but 
Jimmy, seized by a sudden overmastering impulse, 
put his arm through hers, led her toward the sofa, 
and there, holding her hand in his, he began his 
story, and for a full half hour continued it, omit¬ 
ting nothing, until he had brought it down as far 
as the events of the morning. 

“ So you see,” he concluded, “ it wasn’t my 
fault. There was nothing I could do. I might 
just as well have been dead. But we ought to 
thank Heaven that I’m myself again, and we must 
forget these months, as we would some frightful 
dream. If you’ll do that, dear, we’ll be as happy 
— far happier, even — than we were before.” 

And Dorothy, hearing him speak, watching his 
face, feeling the pressure of his hand on hers, knew 


Another Man's Shoes 


227 


instinctively that what he said was true. It was 
improbable—well-nigh impossible, even — but for 
all that, she knew that it was so, and with a great 
rush of thankfulness at having him thus restored 
to her, all her doubts were swept away in a burst 
of grateful tears, and sobbing, “ I do believe you. 
Indeed, I do,” she laid her head upon his shoulder, 
and let him comfort her as if she had been a child. 

And presently, when she had somewhat re¬ 
covered her composure, she told him, in return, 
her portion of the story; of her visit to Mr. Elli¬ 
son, and to Harold; of the latter’s kindness to 
her during their search; of the unexpected en¬ 
counter at the hotel; and finally, of Harold’s trip 
to Nelson’s rooms. 

Jimmy listened with the most intense interest. 

“ So I’ve been living with Buck Nelson,” he 
mused aloud. “ Did Harold speak of anyone 
else? Or have Nelson and I been rooming alone? ” 

“ Yes, just you two,” she answered, and while 
he was racking his brains to determine the place 
which Kitty Nelson occupied in the puzzle, his 
question seemed to bring a sudden memory to her 
mind, and she added, “ I asked him about that, 
especially. You’ll think I’m very silly, but I 
imagined all sorts of dreadful things about you. 
I thought perhaps there was some other girl —” 


228 


Putting It Over 


He interrupted her. 

“ Never, dear/’ he cried. “ There couldn’t 
be,” and then, as he thought of the other problems 
which lay before them, he added, in his turn, 
“ Dorothy, I want to ask you the same question 
that I asked you once before, that day by the 
river. It’s true that we haven’t seen as much 
of each other as we planned, but I don’t think we 
could undergo any harder test than the one we’ve 
just been through. So please tell me, dear, that 
we are really and truly engaged.” 

Her answer was smothered in a kiss, and then, 
“ Glory be! ” shouted Jimmy. “ Now I can tell 
you something really interesting. Something 
you’ll find it hard to believe.” 

She shook with half hysterical laughter. 

“ Something hard to believe,” she cried, “ after 
what I’ve just been listening to. Oh Jimmy, it 
must be the most wonderful thing in the world.” 

Jimmy, too, burst out laughing, for in his 
earnestness the humor of his remark had not 
occurred to him. 

“ No,” he told her. “ Being engaged to you is 
the most wonderful thing in the world, but this is 
the next most wonderful. You’ll think, compared 
to me, that Ananias was a novice, and Mun¬ 
chausen a false alarm, but it’s true, just the same.” 


Another Man’s Shoes 


229 


And forthwith he told her the story of Ebenezer 
Blake and his will, and of his own losing wagers on 
the day of her departure. 

Her eyes grew big with wonder. 

“ Three million dollars! ” she gasped. And as 
she recalled their last afternoon together, she cried, 
“ No wonder you were so excited at the ball game 
and the races. So that was the business that kept 
you at home.” 

“ That was it,” he grimly acknowledged, “ and 
those were my only ventures, from that day to this. 
Probably it was lucky I did get rapped in the head, 
or I might have lost everything by this time. 
But as matters stand, we shall have to do some 
quick thinking before the twenty-seventh. We 
must give Harold a battle, at all events.” 

“ Of course we must,” she assented with enthu¬ 
siasm. But as if still finding his story almost 
impossible of belief, she added, “ Don’t think 
I’m doubting you, Jimmy, because I’m not, but 
wouldn’t it be safer to call at the bank, and see that 
your money is really there? ” 

“ Good idea,” he assented. “ I’ve half an hour 
now, before I meet Buck Nelson. Let’s go right 
down there.” 

The visit to the bank restored her faith. Nine 
thousand dollars, with interest, was the balance, 


230 


Putting It Over 


according to the bookkeeper’s card, and they 
came away with the knowledge that they still had, 
as Jimmy expressed it, “ a chance to win out at 
the wire.” 

“ And now,” he said to her, “ I must leave you, 
dear. This is a crisis for everyone. And if I can 
pitch that game and win, I want to do it, partly 
for the sake of Mac and the boys; partly, for my 
own selfish purposes, to beat Harold.” 

“ But how would winning the game do that? ” 
she asked. 

“I’d bet on it,” he promptly answered. 

“ Oh Jimmy,” she cried, “ not after all the 
other times. I hate gambling, anyway. And 
then you don’t seem to be very lucky, 
either.” 

“ Well, I haven’t been, so far,” Jimmy admit¬ 
ted. “ And Heaven knows I’ve had enough of it, 
but what else can we do? I’m licked if I sit still. 
You may depend upon it, Harold hasn’t lost any 
money. He may have made a little; he may have 
made a lot; but I’m mighty sure that he isn’t 
behind the game, the way I am. And as long as 
there are only three days left, I should say that 
the obvious thing to do was to get the right tip on 
this ball game, and then plunge on it. Unless you 
can suggest anything better.” 


Another Marts Shoes 


231 


“ No, I can’t,” she acknowledged. “ But oh, 
Jimmy,” she added, “ promise me one thing. 
Whether you win or lose, don’t ever bet again. 
There’s so much to do in the world, and life is so 
short. I want you to spend your time in some far 
better way than that.” 

Jimmy looked grave. 

“ I don’t know but what you’re right,” he 
acknowledged. “ I never thought of it in just 
that way before. I’m ready to quit, if you want 
me to, but we’ll have this one whirl first.” 

By this time, they had reached the cross street 
leading to Nelson’s home, and he w T as on the point 
of bidding her good-by, when to his surprise, and 
somewhat to his consternation, as well, he beheld 
his cousin approaching. 

“ Gee,” he thought to himself, as he recalled 
Dorothy’s account of Harold’s visit to the flat, 
“■ this is unpleasant. Perhaps, though, he’ll go 
by without speaking.” 

But he experienced no such good fortune. 
Harold, indeed, seemed to make rather a point of 
stopping to greet them, and since there was no 
avoiding the meeting, Jimmy hailed him in the 
most unconcerned manner that he was able to 
assume. 

“ We have some news for you, Harold,” he 


232 Putting It Over 

remarked. “ Dorothy and I are engaged to be 
married.” 

If Harold was astonished, he did not show it, 
but was proceeding, with somewhat old-fashioned 
courtesy, to say the proper things, when Jimmy, 
perceiving that his time was growing short, bade 
Dorothy a hasty farewell and started briskly 
away toward Buck’s. But to his annoyance, 
Harold, too, lifted his hat, and proceeded to walk 
along by his cousin’s side. 

“ Now I wonder,” reflected Jimmy, “ what 
in thunder this means.” 

He was soon to be enlightened, for Harold, 
speaking with an effort at calmness, presently 
inquired, “ Are you serious when you say that you 
are engaged to Miss Lawrence? ” 

Jimmy bristled. 

“ Do you think I’d joke about anything like 
that? ” he icily replied. “ It would be in rather 
poor taste, wouldn’t it? ” 

Harold laughed, in a particularly irritating 
fashion. 

“ Oh,” he retorted, “ I shouldn’t imagine that 
would worry you.” 

The sneer was too open to be misconstrued. 
Jimmy stopped short. 

“ Say, what’s the matter with you, anyway? ” 


Another Man's Shoes 


233 


he cried. “ You seem to take a quite unnecessary 
interest in my affairs.” 

But Harold did not flinch. 

“ On the contrary,” he rejoined, “ I take 
extremely little interest in your affairs, but I do 
take a decided interest in Miss Lawrence’s.” 

“ The hell you do,” Jimmy inelegantly retorted. 
“ Any particular right to do so? ” 

“ None,” Harold evenly replied, “ except that 
I greatly admire her. And to see a man behaving 
toward her as you have done, and then to hear you 
have the effrontery to announce that you are 
engaged to her — why, it’s positively revolting.” 

Jimmy glared at him. 

“ Look here,” he warmly responded, “ you’re 
using some pretty strong language, and in just 
about a minute you’re going to get your head 
punched. If I have appeared to avoid Miss 
Lawrence, in any way, there’s been good reason 
for it. Can you understand that? ” 

“ I can understand it perfectly,” Harold re¬ 
joined, with the same air of contempt, “ and it 
isn’t your avoiding her that I object to. It’s being 
engaged to two girls at once — to leading a double 
life — that’s what I call a dirty, blackguardly 
thing to do.” 

In spite of himself, Jimmy started violently, as 


234 


Putting It Over 


Doctor Mansfield’s smiling reference to Kitty 
Nelson came vividly back to him. Yet being most 
unwilling to credit such a story, and having a clear 
conscience to aid him, he immediately decided 
to make a sweeping denial of Harold’s charge. 

“ Nothing of the sort,” he hotly exclaimed. 
“ If you’ve heard anything like that, you’ve been 
misinformed. I am engaged to Miss Lawrence, 
and that’s all there is to it. As to the Nelson girl,” 
he added, with perfect truth, “ why, I scarcely 
know her at all.” 

Harold’s expression of contempt deepened. 

“ I cannot see the point,” he calmly rejoined, 
“ of such wholesale lying. I went to Nelson’s 
home, night before last, and found you there, 
evidently on the most intimate terms with his sis¬ 
ter. To be exact, you were sitting beside her, on 
the sofa, with your arm around her waist, kissing 
her. Also, she showed me a very pretty diamond 
ring, which she said you gave her, and told me 
that you and she were engaged. To-day, I meet 
you in the street, and you inform me that Miss 
Dorothy Lawrence is your fiancee. If you can 
reconcile these facts, I should be most interested to 
hear you do it.” 

There was such perfect confidence in his air 
that Jimmy felt that he must be telling the truth. 


Another Man’s Shoes 


235 


Surely no one, least of all Harold, would make such 
accusations unless he were sure of his ground. 
And yet Dorothy had told him of Harold’s report 
that Jimmy was living alone with Buck Nelson, 
and was in no way interested in anyone belonging 
to the other sex. Jimmy himself, it seemed, even 
in his dual role, had not been the only trifler with 
the truth. And clutching desperately at this 
straw, “ I shouldn’t think,” he cried, “ that you 
were in much of a position to deliver lectures on 
lying. Didn’t you tell Dorothy that I had nothing 
to do with Kitty Nelson, or any other girl at all?” 

To his joy, Harold flushed, yet there was no 
great degree of guilt or confusion in his manner 
as he replied, “ Yes, I did. I lied to Miss Law¬ 
rence, if you must know it, for the very good reason 
that realizing the state of mind she was in, and 
considering her very evident feelings toward you, 
I believed that if I told her the truth, the most 
serious consequences might follow.” 

As he listened, Jimmy felt his wrath suddenly 
evaporate, for remembering Dorothy’s confession 
of jealousy, it was easy enough to see that Harold’s 
inspired falsehood had doubtless saved Jimmy 
himself from utter disaster. 

“ I haven’t time, Hal,” he said, “ to go into 
explanations now. But there’s one thing I’ll 


236 


Putting It Over 


tell you. As much as appearances are against me, 
I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. We 
meet Mr. Ellison on the twenty-seventh. On 
the twenty-eighth, I’ll see you alone, and explain 
this whole business to you. That’s all I can say 
now, except that I’m much obliged for the kind¬ 
ness you showed Dorothy. It was very decent of 
you, and I won’t forget it.” 

Twenty minutes later, he reached the address 
which Doctor Mansfield had given him, ascended 
the stairs, and not without a feeling of trepida¬ 
tion, pressed the bell. Immediately, he heard the 
sound of footsteps, the door was thrust open, and a 
dainty feminine figure, becomingly attired for the 
street, greeted him with an ardour which fully 
bore out the truth of Harold’s assertions. No 
engaged man could possibly have asked for a 
warmer greeting, and it was with distinct embar¬ 
rassment that Jimmy disengaged her arms from 
about his neck, and followed her into the parlor of 
the suite. 

“ What’s the matter, Jack? ” she asked, and 
as she spoke, he recalled the high-pitched voice, 
which so materially detracted from her charms 
of face and figure. Her grammar, too, was clearly 
not her strong point, for she followed up her query 
by exclaiming, in quick succession, “Are you hurt 


Another Man’s Shoes 


237 


bad? Why wouldn’t the Doc let me in? You 
don’t act like you was very glad to see me.” 

Jimmy remembered all he had read of the quick¬ 
ness of feminine intuition, and reflected that here 
was a splendid example of it. 

“ Why,” he began, “ the fact is — I mean to 
say — that is — ” 

But at this point his distress was momentarily 
relieved by the entry, from an adjoining room, of a 
big, broad-shouldered, burly figure, which Jimmy 
felt could be none other than Buck himself. Yet 
he had reached the stage where he was no longer 
jumping at conclusions of any kind, and so cau¬ 
tiously inquired, “ Mr. Nelson? ” 

The newcomer stared at him. 

“ What’s the joke? ” he asked. 

Jimmy sighed; then, feeling that the sooner the 
truth were known, the better it would be for all of 
them, deliberately sat down. 

“ You think,” he said, “ that my name is Smith. 
As a matter of fact, it isn’t. And you might as 
well listen quietly, while I explain things to you.” 

Buck also seated himself. He was a man of 
experience with the world, and not easily aston¬ 
ished. 

“ Shoot,” he briefly observed. 

Whereupon Jimmy, though with no relish for 


238 


Putting It Over 


his task, retold his tale. His audience granted 
him the silence he had asked for, yet when he had 
finished, it was evident that Kitty, at least, did not 
in the least believe him. 

“ What a silly story,” she cried, with her shrill 
laugh. “ You needn’t think you can make a fool 
of me, Jack. There’s some reason for this, but 
you’ll find out I’m not to be shook as easy as you 
believe.” 

Buck, however, foreseeing the possible complica¬ 
tions that might arise, and taking small interest 
in his sister’s love affairs, compared with the 
mighty problem of the pennant, turned to her with 
a gesture of command. 

“ You shut up,” he directed. “ Now then,” 
he continued, to Jimmy, “ this is the damnedest 
yarn I ever listened to. You mean to tell me you 
don’t remember one single, identical thing, since 
you got knocked on the head that night, three 
months ago? ” 

Jimmy nodded. 

“ That’s the absolute truth,” he answered. 
“ I don’t remember one thing, until this morning.” 

But Kitty, with a great sense of injustice, 
refused to keep silence, and now struck in, “You 
can’t remember all the hugging and kissing we 
done? And all the times you’ve told me about me 


Another Man’s Shoes 239 

being the dearest little sweetheart in the whole 
wide world? ” 

Jimmy shuddered. Smith’s taste, it seemed to 
him, was execrable, and his language distressingly 
unoriginal. Still, being human, and realizing, as 
he gazed at Kitty, that so long as she kept silent, 
she possessed undeniable attractions, there may 
have been a tinge of unrighteous regret in his tone 
as he firmly answered, “I’m sorry to have to say 
it, but I can’t remember a single thing.” 

The girl burst into a perfect fury of rage. 

“ Hark to him,” she cried, displaying the ring 
on her hand. “ You gave me this, and you’ll 
find that it will hold you. I’ll have you sued for 
breach of promise, I will. Why don’t you lick 
him, Buck — the sneak! ” 

The exasperated Buck rose, walked over to her 
chair, and forcibly pulled her out of it. 

“ You get away from here,” he directed, “ and 
go along down to rehearsal, where you belong. 
Jack and I can settle this ourselves.” And know¬ 
ing that when her brother took command, she 
must obey him, the incensed Kitty swept haughtily 
and dramatically from the room. 

Buck turned to Jimmy. 

“ Don’t mind her,” he tersely observed. “Being 
a woman, of course she’s a fool. Now what I’ve 


240 


Putting It Over 


been thinking about is this. Suppose you’re 
lying, what are you doing it for? And 1 can’t 
find the answer.” 

“ Of course you can’t,” Jimmy rejoined, “ be¬ 
cause the only answer is that I’m telling the truth. 
And you might as well take my word for it, once 
and for all, because we’ve got a lot to figure out, 
and a mighty short time to do it in. So let’s get 
that settled first. You do believe me, don’t you? 
Is that agreed? ” 

Evidently, a struggle was going on in Buck’s 
mind, but at length he banged his big fist against 
the arm of his chair, and rose to his feet with an 
exclamation of finality. 

“ Yes,” he cried, “ I do believe you. It’s one 
of those things that’s impossible, but yet it’s true. 
Because,” he added, “ I’ve been noticing you ever 
since you came in, and I can see how you’re 
different, every way. You don’t talk the same; 
you don’t look the same; and unless you’re an 
actor that can beat anybody on the boards, you’re 
telling the truth.” 

Jimmy rose, and thrust out his hand. 

“ Buck,” he said, “ thank Heaven I’ve met a 
man with common sense. And now let’s work 
out this base ball situation. What are we going 
to do? ” 


Another Man's Shoes 


241 


Buck meditated. 

“ That’s just it,” he answered. “ You don’t 
know our signals. You don’t know any of the 
inside stuff we pull off. I don’t suppose you even 
know the boys by sight.” 

Jimmy shook his head. 

“ No,” he responded, “ no one but the manager. 
I met him this morning. And he said if I didn’t 
pitch, we’d lose anyway.” 

“ Yes,” Buck agreed, “ that’s true. But about 
your pitching, now. Did you ever play ball, 
before you went dotty? You must have; you 
couldn’t show the stuff you have, just because 
you got knocked in the head. If that’s 
what did it, I’ll take a club to the rest of our 
pitchers.” 

Jimmy grinned. 

“ I pitched on my college team,” he answered, 
“ and putting modesty aside, I was pretty good. 
I’ve got speed —” 

Nelson interrupted him. 

“ No,” he said bluntly, “ that’s one thing you 
haven’t got. They might have told you so, in 
some little freshwater college, but you haven’t it, 
according to big league standards. You have 
some awful curves, and you’re a heady pitcher, 
but you haven’t speed.” 


242 


Putting It Over 


Jimmy looked puzzled. 

“ I don’t understand that,” he said. “ I never 
thought much of my curves, myself. But I did 
have speed. How about my spitter? That used 
to be my long suit. Have they been hitting % 
that? ” 

Nelson stared. 

“ My dear man,” he retorted, “ you don’t use 
a spitter. I tell you you’re a slow ball artist. 
This is the devil of a funny mix-up.” 

“ I’ll bet I know the reason,” Jimmy hazarded. 

“ If that bump on the head altered me every 
other way, I suppose it’s only natural that it 
altered my style of pitching, too. But be that 
as it may, we’ll go to the park, the first thing in 
the morning, and have a tryout. If I’m all right, 
I’ll pitch the game. If you don’t think I’ll do, I’ll 
either tell Maguire the whole story, or else I’ll 
tell him I’m sick, and can’t play. But I’m sure of 
one thing, and that is that it’s up to you to be 
the judge. Nobody else would ever believe this 
story, and there’s no use in having it spread. Isn’t 
that right? ” 

Nelson considered; then assented. 

“ Yes, that’s right,” he agreed; “ first thing 
in the morning, then.” 

Jimmy rose to go. 


Another Man’s Shoes 


243 


“ And about your sister,” he said awkwardly. 
“ God knows how badly I feel about it, but I’m 
engaged to another girl — have been, practically, 
all along. So I don’t see what there is for me 
to do.” 

Nelson grinned. 

“ Oh, I’ll take care of Kitty,” he answered. 
11 She’ll be hot-headed for a while, but she won’t 
mind such a lot. She got along with Mike Halla- 
han fine, before you blew along, and I guess she’ll 
go back to him again. Between ourselves,” he 
added, “ I don’t know just what made her take to 
you, anyway. She always said it was nothing but 
love, but I had a suspicion that seeing you piling 
up the coin —” 

Jimmy interrupted him. 

“ What did you say? ” he cried. “ I haven’t 
been making any money, have I? ” 

“ Sure?” Nelson responded, and then, as the 
humor of the situation struck him, he laughed 
heartily. 

“ Ain’t that the funniest thing? ” he cried. 
“ I heard once about a fellow that could beat the 
stock market. He did it for years, and finally it 
turned out that he was crazy, all the time. Some¬ 
thing the same way with you. I never saw any¬ 
thing like the way you picked winners at the ball 


244 


Putting It Over 


games, and now it seems you were balmy in the 
bean. But you made the money, all right.” 

Jimmy fairly gasped. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, how much did I make? v 
he exclaimed. 

“ I couldn’t tell you that,” Buck answered, 
“ but it’s easy enough to find out. You kept 
your account in a little savings bank right around 
the corner. Stop a minute, though. I know an 
easier way than that. You had a pass book, 
because you showed it to me, two or three different 
times. You look in your room, and I guess you’ll 
find it.” 

“ This,” cried Jimmy, “ has got the ‘ Arabian 
Nights ’ beaten by a block. I’d forgotten that I 
had a room. Will you show me which it is, 
please ? ” 

Buck led the way down the hallway. 

“ There,” he said, “ is where Doc Mansfield 
pulled you out of a mighty small hole, when you 
came here first. And that’s where you’ve been 
living for the better part of three months. You 
rummage around in there, and you’ll sure find 
that book.” 

Jimmy, entering, began his search, and in a very 
few moments he found the book, lying in one of 
the drawers of the bureau. With the feeling that 


Another Man’s Shoes 


245 


his fate depended on what he found within, he 
opened it, saw that the name “ John Smith ” was 
inscribed at the top of the page, and then looked 
quickly at the final balance to his credit. 

Three thousand, one hundred and forty-six 
dollars, and seventy-two cents. 

Jimmy sat down, rather hastily, upon the side 
of the bed, his knees a bit unsteady, his head not 
quite clear. 

“ Thank the Lord for that,” he piously ex¬ 
claimed ; then, as he mentally reviewed the events 
of the day, he added, with a grin, “ Well Uncle 
Ebenezer can’t kick; he’s certainly getting his 
money’s worth.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


PENALTIES OF POSSESSING A DUAL 
PERSONALITY 

Bright and early, the next morning, Dorothy 
received a telephone message from Jimmy. 

“ Don’t go out,” he told her. “ I’m coming 
around to see you, right away. I have some bully 
news for you; best you ever heard.” 

A half hour later, he made his appearance, in the 
most radiant of moods, and almost before their 
greetings were over, he pulled the bank book from 
his pocket, and proudly exhibited it. 

“ Talk about luck! ” he exclaimed. “ What 
do you know about that? ” 

She scanned the total; then glanced at the name 
at the top of the page. 

“ How did you — how did he — make it? ” she 
asked. 

“ Betting with the bookies at the ball grounds,” 
he answered; adding, with a laugh, “ Three cheers 
for Smith. He was certainly a wonder at it. So 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 247 

instead of being behind the game, this puts me 
about twenty-five hundred to the good. I’m sure 
we’ll win now. Isn’t it great? ” 

But somewhat to his disappointment, she did 
not join in his enthusiasm as whole-heartedly as he 
had anticipated, and after several moments of 
thoughtful silence, she presently inquired, “ Jimmy, 
have you seen Mr. Ellison about this? ” 

“ Seen Ellison? ” Jimmy repeated. “ Why no, 
we don’t have to see him until day after to¬ 
morrow. That’s the time of the final meeting, 
when we’ll give Harold a first-class licking. 

But he had no sooner uttered the words than he 
regretted them, for his opinion of his cousin, in 
the last twenty-four hours, had undergone a very 
considerable change, and thus he made haste to 
add, “ No, I’ll take that back. It isn’t beating 
Harold I care about. In fact, I’m sorry for him, 
because he’s a pretty good chap, after all. Only 
we can use the coin as well as he can, and I’m 
glad it’s coming our way.” 

“ I agree with you about your cousin,” she 
assented. “ No one could have been kinder to 
me than he has been. But I shouldn’t waste my 
sympathy on him yet, Jimmy, because it doesn’t 
seem to me that you really have any right to the 
three thousand dollars.” 


248 


Putting It Over 


Jimmy stared. 

“ No right/’ he echoed. u Well, I guess I have. 
I’d like to know who has a better one.” ** 

“ I don’t think you understand me,” she 
answered. “ Of course it’s yours now, but from 
what you’ve told me about the terms of your 
uncle’s will, I shouldn’t think that you could count 
it as money you had earned yourself. It was Jack 
Smith who made it, and not you.” 

Her words were distinctly unwelcome, and 
Jimmy’s first impulse was to try to belittle them. 

“ Oh nonsense,” he cried. “ What are you 
thinking of, Dorothy? I know Smith made it, 
but Smith and I are the same.” 

She pondered. 

“ Yes, in a sense you are,” she answered, “ but 
in another sense, you certainly are not. Suppose, 
for instance, that while you were Smith, you had 
murdered someone. Now that you are yourself 
again, wouldn’t you consider it a great injustice if 
you were held responsible? ” 

There seemed to be no avoiding the answer. 

“ Yes,” he admitted, unwillingly enough, “ I 
suppose I should.” 

She did not press the point. 

“ Well, then —” she queried, and left him to 
complete the inference, at his leisure. 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 249 

Jimmy strove desperately to find some argu¬ 
ment with which to refute her, but the harder he 
thought, the more he realized how irrationally he 
had regarded the whole affair. There was no 
escaping it. In the matter of Kitty, he had 
satisfied his conscience without the slightest 
difficulty, yet he had intended to appropriate this 
money without a doubt that it was his. But since 
its possession apparently meant the difference 
between defeat and victory, his desire to claim it 
died hard, and he began to feel a wholly unjust 
resentment against Dorothy. 

“ Oh well,” he grumbled, “ it’s an awfully 
mixed-up affair, anyway. We don’t have to tell 
Ellison. But of course, if you don’t want me to 
win — 

She sat down beside him, and kissed him. 

“ Please don’t be angry, dear,” she said. “You 
know I want you to win. I want you to be suc¬ 
cessful in everything. But — I don’t want you 
to win unfairly. Because your uncle trusted you. ’ ’ 

The words cleared the cobwebs from his brain. 

“ You’re right, Dorothy,” he exclaimed. “We 
must see Ellison at once. I still claim I’m entitled 
to the money, but if I’m not, we ought to know it 
now, instead of after the twenty-seventh, when 
it will be too late. And as long as we’re engaged, 


250 


Putting It Over 


there’s no reason why you can’t go with me. 
Come along, now, and we’ll see whatJie says.” 

Fortunately for their peace of mind, they found 
Mr. Ellison in, and after Jimmy had explained 
the matter of the engagement, and they had duly 
received his felicitations, Jimmy came at once to 
the point. The telling of the story, indeed, con¬ 
sumed but a few moments, for through repeated 
narrations, he had learned to present its salient 
features without unnecessary verbiage. 

“ So the question,” he concluded, “is a simple 
one. Can I put down this three thousand dollars 
to my credit, or can I not? ” 

The lawyer reflected, and at length asked, “ Do 

■i 

I understand that during this period you had 
occasional lucid intervals, or was it an entire 
blank? ” 

“ An absolute blank,” Jimmy answered. “ Never 
knew a thing until I got this second whack on the 
head.” 

The lawyer again deliberated; then observed, 
“ I am extremely sorry, but I cannot really see how 
the money can be credited to your account. As 
Miss Lawrence suggests, it was practically another 
man who won it.” 

“ But I don’t think so,” Jimmy insisted. “ It 
was I, only with my mind affected. Supposing 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 251 

I made the money while I was drunk. Wouldn’t 
I be entitled to it then? Or conversely, if I got 
drunk and lost it, wouldn’t I be liable? ” 

“ Yes,” the lawyer agreed, “ I think that would 
be so. But the case isn’t a parallel one. Assum¬ 
ing drunkenness, the brain is still yours, but it is 
under a temporary cloud, and there would be no 
way of telling to just what extent the wager was 
yours, and to what extent it was prompted by the 
alcohol. We trespass on the boundaries of the 
medical profession there, but in this actual case of 
yours, the brain became, to all intents and pur¬ 
poses, the brain of another man. And you can 
neither be held responsible for his acts, nor on the 
other hand, can you reap any benefit from them. 
If you had lost the money, for instance, I could not 
hold you liable for that.” 

Jimmy grinned ruefully. 

“ Rather cold comfort,” he replied. “ But it 
never does any good to kick against the umpire’s 
decision. So I suppose I shall have to agree with 
you, whether I want to or not.” 

“ I am very sorry,” the lawyer answered. 
“ Personally, I dislike to seem to rule against you, 
but as the trustee of your uncle’s will, of course I 
am obliged to be strictly impartial. I am sure 
you appreciate that aspect of the situation.” 


252 


Putting It Over 


“ Indeed I do, 57 Jimmy heartily replied. “ You 
have been very kind, sir, and I thank you. I’ll 
be here, on the twenty-seventh, at noon.’ 7 

As he regained the street, however, he sighed 
gloomily. 

“ Well, you were right,” he said. “ And 
things couldn’t look much worse. My dreams 
have gone up in smoke.” 

“ I was afraid of it,” she answered, “ but any¬ 
way, it’s something to have discovered it in time.” 

“ Yes,” he acknowledged, “ we know what 
we’re up against. It looks like a straight gamble, 
now. But I’ve got to hurry, to meet Buck. We’ll 
talk it over again this afternoon, and then make up 
our minds.” 

He left her, and an hour later was busily engaged 
in warming up at the park, the big catcher taking 
him in hand as if he had been a raw recruit, teach¬ 
ing him signal after signal, inside play after inside 
play, until Jimmy, feeling that he was somewhat 
in touch with the Black Sox style of game, was 
free to centre his attention upon his work, and 
since he had never before in his life been in such 
magnificent shape, he sent the balls in with a speed 
that made Nelson stare. 

Finally, the practice was ended, and Buck, 
removing his mask, walked out toward the 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 253 

pitcher’s box. Jimmy waited for him, wondering 
what his fate was going to be, but he was not to 
learn it yet. 

“ You can pitch, boy,” Buck began. “ There’s 
no doubt of that. And you have this in your 
favor. The Eagles will be expecting your regular 
slow ball style, and this speed of yours will come 
pretty near paralyzing them. It’s about as queer 
a proposition as I ever came across. When you 
were Jack Smith, it must surely have been the kink 
in your head piece that made the difference. You 
had no speed, but you had awful curves, and you 
were as cool as ice. Now you have speed to burn, 
and your spitter is a bird, but the disadvantage 
is that you’re more excitable and high strung than 
Smith ever thought of being. Whether you can 
keep your nerve, in a big league game, is the ques¬ 
tion. You’d better go home and take things easy, 
and come around to see me again at four o’clock. 
You can be thinking it over, and I’ll be doing the 
same. We’ve got to consider the rest of the boys, 
as well as ourselves. Doesn’t that strike you as 
sensible? ” 

“ Sure thing,” Jimmy agreed, and after his 
shower and rub, he spent his time with Dorothy 
until four o’clock came around, and then once 
more made his way to Nelson’s flat. 


254 


Putting It Over 

■x 

He found Buck at home, and Kitty just on the 
point of leaving for the theatre. But there was 
no longer any danger of further vituperation, for 
her attitude toward him was now one of utter dis¬ 
dain, and without even replying to his “ Good 
afternoon,” she departed with a haughtiness even 
more pronounced than before. 

Buck grinned. 

“ Gee, but you’re in bad there,’’ he said. “She’d 
knife you for a nickel. Well, anyway, it’s not 
your fault. And now about the game. It looks 
to me just as it did this morning. It’s a question 
of your keeping your nerve. If you can do that, 
we’ll win the pennant. So it’s really pretty much 
up to you.” 

Jimmy pondered. 

“ Buck,” he answered at length, “ I don’t want 
to brag, but getting rattled was never one of my 
faults. I’ll give you my word that I won’t go to 
pieces.” 

Nelson nodded, as though satisfied. 

“ That’s good enough for me,” he responded. 
“ If you’ll send them in the way you did to-day, 
we can turn the trick.” 

“ What about Mac? ” asked Jimmy. 

“ We won’t tell him,” Buck answered. “ What 
he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’s a nervous 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 255 

guy, too, and if we handed him a fairy tale like 
this, he’d be apt to throw a fit, and not let you 
pitch at all. No, I’ll take the responsibility. 
And now let’s go over their batting list; I’ll have 
to put you wise to the whole team. We’ll begin 
with Skelton, their lead-off man. He’s no good 
on high ones, but if you ever give him one low and 
on the outside —” 

“ Just a minute,” Jimmy interrupted. “ I’ve 
got to get one thing off my mind first. I want to 
place a bet on this game. I can’t tell you the 
whole story now, but the amount of it is that I 
simply have to get the money up. It won’t affect 
my playing in the least. And I thought you 
wouldn’t mind looking after it for me.” 

“ Sure,” Buck assented, “ I can get it on, all 
right. What odds do you expect? ” 

“ Why, I suppose it will be a case of even 
money, won’t it? ” Jimmy asked. 

“ There or thereabouts,” Buck answered. “Ten 
to nine, and pick ’em, the bookies say, but I can 
get you even money, I should think. How 
much are you going to put up? ” 

Jimmy thrust his hand in his pocket, and drew 
forth a roll of bills. There were only nine of them, 
but each bore a one and three zeros in the corner. 
Buck opened his eyes. 



256 Putting r JtOver 

“ Say, you’re some happy little gambler,” he 
observed. 

“ I won’t make any bluffs about it,” Jimmy 
soberly replied. “ This means a devil of a lot to 
me. But as I say, it won’t make any difference 
to my playing, because there’s no bucking Fate, 
any way you try. I’ll do my level best, and we’ll 
let it go at that.” 

Buck pocketed the bills. 

“ That’s the talk,” he responded. “ I’ll get 
this up for you, and the Lord knows I hope you 
win, for all our sakes. And now let’s get busy on 
that batting list. As I was telling you about 
Skelton —” 

They bent to their task again, so intent upon 
their planning that neither of them heard the faint 
rustle of skirts outside the door, or the still fainter 
sound of footsteps cautiously descending the stairs. 

And now, with the twenty-seventh only two 
days away, the coming of evening found the two 
contestants for the Blake millions in singularly 
different attitudes of mind, for Jimmy, the reckless 
gambler, retired to rest with a^calm and untroubled 
spirit, while Harold, the placid and cautious 
investor, walked the floor in an agony of appre¬ 
hension. 

That Jimmy was ahead of him in the race was 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 257 

terribly upsetting to all his theories, yet from what 
he had heard at the ball park, it seemed to be 
true. It was unfair, illogical; but still the fact 
remained. And since Harold had become so 
thoroughly imbued with the idea of winning that 
he had come to regard the three millions as his 
own, and had even gone so far as to plan the 
method of their investment, the thought of 
Jimmy’s defeating him was an unexpected and 
staggering blow. And thus, long after mid¬ 
night, he remained wide awake, revolving many 
schemes in his head, first making decisions, then 
abandoning them, in a perfect panic of indecision 
and doubt. 

Nor did Buck Nelson seek his couch in any too 
peaceful a mood. He was taking the right course, 
he was sure, yet it was a heavy responsibility, 
and he dreaded the possibility of having Jimmy 
“ blow up ” at the very opening of the game. 
One thing, however, pleased him. Kitty seemed 
wholly to have recovered from her disappoint¬ 
ment, and appeared to be quite herself again. 
So, saved from the annoyance of further scenes 
with his sister, he sensibly enough concluded to 
adopt Jimmy’s point of view, to do his best, and 
not to waste time and strength in worrying. 

If he had had an inkling, however, of the real 


258 


Putting It Over 


reason that lay behind Kitty’s good cheer, sleep 
would never have come to him that night. For 
Mike Hallahan, after a long period of banishment, 
had that afternoon received a message from his 
former sweetheart, and in the twilight, in the 
romantic seclusion of a bench in the park, Kitty 
had artfully made her peace with him, presenting 
the very feminine excuse that her flirtation with 
Smith had been designed merely as a test of 
Mike’s faithfulness. So that the big first base- 
man, with his adored one’s hand in his, felt all the 
joy of a return to Paradise, and his bliss became 
absolute when Kitty murmured, “ Mike dear, if 
you’ll do something to please me, I’ll marry you 
right away.” 

“ I’ll do anything,” protested the enamored 
Hallahan. “ Anything in the whole wide world.” 

“ It’s really nothing at all,” she answered. “It’s 
only this. If the Eagles win to-morrow, you may 
name our wedding day.” 

He imagined that he had misunderstood what 
she said. 

“ If the Eagles win,” he repeated. “ You mean, 
if the Black Sox win.” 

“ I mean exactly what I say,” she coolly re¬ 
joined. “I want to see the Eagles win. If they 
do, I’ll marry you; if they don’t, I won’t.” 


Penalties of a Dual Personality 259 

He sat silent, in stupefied amazement. 

“ But it’s not fair,” he objected. “ What have 
I got to do with it? The boys may knock Wilson 
out of the box. What can I do then? ” 

“ You’re the first baseman,” she answered. 
“ You have more chances than anyone else on the 
team.” 

“ Yes, I know it,” he admitted, but as the injus¬ 
tice of her proposal swept over him, he again cried 
miserably, “ It’s not fair.” 

She rose from the bench, with a laugh that had 
no mirth in it. 

“ Who’s talking about fairness? ” she retorted. 
“ Nothing is fair in this world. I guess I’d ought 
to know that. Anyway, there’s my offer. It’s 
up to you. You can have me or not, just as you 
please.” 

Mike groaned, but she had the whip hand of 
him, and he knew it. And after he had seen her 
home, he returned to the park, and there paced 
blindly to and fro in the moonlight, weighing in 
his mind, as many another man had done before 
him, the conflicting claims of duty and of love. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BATTLE FOR THE PENNANT 

The twenty-sixth of September dawned bril¬ 
liantly, and by noon the gorgeous sunrise had 
softened and mellowed into a perfect autumn day, 
ideally warm, and with just enough of a breeze 
to flutter the folds of the huge American flag at 
the entrance of the park. 

All through the morning, the crowds were 
streaming toward the grounds, and by two o’clock, 
the hour scheduled for the game, thirty thousand 
people had filled grandstand and bleachers to over¬ 
flowing, while thousands more, unable to gain 
admittance, surged and swarmed before the bulle¬ 
tin boards, in the streets down town. 

A very small percentage of the spectators at 
the park had come there merely for the spectacle, 
ignorant philistines who scarcely knew the differ¬ 
ence between a strike out and a stolen base; but 
by far the greater portion of the throng were those 
true enthusiasts to whom base ball was every whit 


The Battle for the Pennant 261 

as serious a matter as either their business, their 
families or their politics. And since the earnest 
desire of these “fans” was to see Smith and Wilson 
opposed to each other in this grand final struggle, 
their first impulse, on arriving at the grounds, was 
to cast a quick glance at the rival camps of the 
Black Sox and the Eagles, to see which pitchers 
had been selected to start the game. 

One look at the Eagles’ dugout was enough, for 
in front of it Wilson, wiry and cool as ever, was 
warming up with his customary air of careless 
unconcern, but none the less performing wonders 
with the ball which he could manipulate with such 
baffling skill. 

And with this point settled, a glance at the other 
side of the field made it equally certain that Smith 
was to be the choice for the Black Sox. Yet man 
after man, familiar with his delivery, noticed with 
surprise the very evident change in his style. 
And if the experts were puzzled, Maguire himself 
was dumbfounded, for instead of the slow, decep¬ 
tive, exasperating curves that he had learned to 
admire, he now beheld his star pitcher cutting 
loose with tremendous speed, a fine assortment of 
hooks and shoots, and from time to time, an unde¬ 
niable use of the “ spitter.” Maguire, old cam¬ 
paigner though he was, deliberately pinched him- 


262 


Putting It Over 


self, and finding that he was awake, sent Hagan, 
the substitute catcher, to take Nelson’s place, and 
called Buck to his side. 

“ What in hell,” was his brief comment, “ do 
you call this? ” 

Buck grinned. 

“ Oh, he’s just putting a little more stuff on the 
ball,” he responded. “ Don’t worry, Mac; he’s 
got everything under the sun to-day.” 

“ Yes, he seems to have,” agreed Maguire; 
“ but that isn’t the point. It’s against nature for 
a man to change his style over night. I thought 
I knew base ball, but I never saw anything like 
this before. I just about imagine I’ve gone crazy 
with the heat.” 

Buck’s smile broadened. 

“ Don’t you worry,” he repeated. “ I’ll tell 
you all about it after the game,” and with a wave 
of his hand, he ran quickly back on the field. 

The manager stood looking after him, as if 
undecided what course to pursue, but finally, with 
a shrug of his shoulders, he turned toward the 
bench. 

“ Oh well,” he soliloquized, “ nothing to lose. 
Let him start the game. But of all the things I 
ever saw in twenty years of base ball, this gets my 
goat, for fair.” 


The Battle for the Pennant 263 

And now at last the great moment, so ardently 
desired by the spectators, had really come. The 
band’s crashing melody ceased; the noise in the 
stands died away to absolute nothingness. The 
Black Sox took their positions in the field, and at 
the plate Buck and Jimmy parted company. 
Nelson was the more excited of the two, but he 
laid his big mitt reassuringly upon Jimmy’s 
shoulder. 

“ Steady now, boy,” he counselled; “ this is 
your day. Just get by this first inning, and we’ll 
have these gents standing on their heads.” 

Jimmy nodded, walked out to the pitcher’s box, 
and turning, faced, at one and the same time, the 
first of the Eagles’ batsmen, and beyond the dia¬ 
mond itself, the amphitheatre black with such a 
crowd of people as he had never imagined could 
collect to see a ball game, even the one which was 
to decide the possession of the pennant. 

More than once, in the last two days, he had 
tried to imagine what this instant would be like, 
and in spite of his promise to Buck not to lose his 
nerve, yet considering all that he had been through, 
he had rather dreaded the possibility of something 
like an attack of stage fright. But now that the 
time had really come, he was amazed at his own 
coolness. In a sense, indeed, the whole affair was 


264 


Putting It Over 


dream like — it seemed impossible to realize that 
he was standing there, with the great Black Sox 
infield behind him. Yet casting a quick glance 
around the diamond, he noted, with the expert eye 
of a lover of the game, Glendon waiting on third, 
lean and brown and agile, ready to dash in and 
capture the more than probable bunt for which 
Skelton was so justly dreaded. Next to him stood 
Warrener, the burly short stop, he of the arm of 
steel, which could whip the ball over to first like a 
rifle bullet; then came Dorgan, steady and reliable, 
the best fielding second baseman in the league; and 
on first loomed big Mike Hallahan, heavy hitter 
and sure catcher of thrown balls. In this emer¬ 
gency, it was comforting to know that these stone¬ 
wall men were back of him. 

Inopportunely, at the moment, the thought of 
all that the day meant to him and to Dorothy 
flashed over him, but the next instant he had 
banished it from his mind, for he knew that to win 
a battle such as this, he would need every atom of 
strength and skill that he possessed; and that from 
the very beginning of the contest, muscle, brain 
and nerve must be centered on the game, and on 
the game alone. 

Nelson had made clear to him, the night before, 
the exact responsibility which each of them was to 


The Battle for the Pennant 265 

assume. Buck himself, with his thorough knowl¬ 
edge of the enemy, was to be the strategist; the 
directions were to come from him, while Jimmy’s 
business was the delivery of the goods. And 
thus, intent upon the task before him, he caught 
the signal for a fast, straight one, and let 
drive. 

Nine times out of ten, the play would have 
been correct, and Skelton, according to his custom, 
would have let the ball go by, but on this particu¬ 
lar afternoon the move was a mistaken one, for 
the Eagles’ attack, planned carefully in advance, 
had been predicated on the rumor that Smith 
was not in shape. Accordingly, they had deter¬ 
mined on a desperate onslaught, with the inten¬ 
tion of driving him from the box at the very out¬ 
set of the game, and thus Skelton, instead of either 
waiting, or bunting, swung fairly on the ball, and 
drove a pretty liner, just out of Jimmy’s reach, 
between short stop and second base. A sure 
base hit, it seemed, and so it would have been with 
almost any other short stop but Warrener in the 
field. Yet the big man, with a wonderful left 
handed lunge, stopped the ball cleanly, recovered 
himself, and shot it across to Hallahan, all with 
such speed that the flying Skelton was nipped by 
a full stride. From the stands came a full- 


266 Putting It Over 

throated roar of applause, and Jimmy drew a long 
breath. 

“ One gone,” he muttered, and faced Dick 
Congdon, the second man up, determined to make 
him share Skelton’s fate. 

And now Buck, having solved the foemen’s 
plan of attack, switched his defence to meet it, 
and instead of balls over the heart of the plate, 
he signalled “ coaxers,” just outside, but Congdon 
was a good waiter, and the count ran up to three 
and two before Buck called for a fast drop. Jimmy 
“ wound up ” deliberately, got the ball away 
exactly as he intended, and had the joy of seeing 
Congdon swing viciously, and miss it by a yard. 
Barker, the third man up, and a wicked hitter, 
drove a long fly to left centre, which Spraker, 
according to custom, nonchalantly gathered in 
upon the run, and the side was out. 

Encouraged by this good start, the Black Sox 
came racing in from the field, in the best of spirits. 
But if the Eagles had accomplished nothing, they 
themselves could do little more with Wilson’s 
sweeping curves, and an unsuccessful bunt, a high 
foul, back of third, and a strike out, made honors 
easy. 

And thus, for three innings, the game con¬ 
tinued, without the semblance of a run on either 


The Battle for the Pennant 267 

side, until, in the last of the fourth, Warrener, 
though ordinarily not rated as a dangerous hitter, 
struck the first ball pitched for a clean, slashing 
single, to centre field, and took second when Nel¬ 
son laid down the conventional bunt, and was 
thrown out at first. Jimmy, with a chance to 
bring in the run, was called out on strikes, but 
Henderson, in the very nick of time, made the 
second hit of the game, a beautiful two bagger 
to left, and Warrener came trotting across the 
plate with the first score of the day. 

To be in the lead, in such a contest as this, gave 
the Black Sox all the confidence in the world, for 
it began to look as if Wilson were going to-prove 
easier than they had thought, and Maguire, sitting 
on the bench by Jimmy’s side, kept repeating, 
“ Just hold ’em now, Jack. We’ve got ’em dead 
to rights. Just keep steady, and we’ll win.” 

And nobly, indeed, did Jimmy, with Buck’s 
shrewd and skillful brain to aid him, keep up the 
pace that he had set. Six innings, and not a man 
of the Eagles had reached first base. Nor were 
the batters disposed of in anything like the cus¬ 
tomary way, for Mike Hallahan, ordinarily, of 
course, as first baseman, the busiest man on the 
team in the matter of putouts, had had almost 
nothing to do. Of the eighteen opponents who 


268 


Putting It Over 


had faced Jimmy, seven had struck out, eight had 
hit flies to the outfield, and only three had been 
retired on infield chances. 

In the seventh, however, came the first signs 
of trouble, when Jimmy, over eager to outguess 
the batter, gave Skelton his base on balls, to the 
delight of the Eagle rooters, who had so far had 
no opportunity to cheer. With the score one to 
nothing against them, it was practically a certainty 
that the next man would bunt, and he did so, 
placing the ball so cleverly along the third base 
line that neither Buck nor Glendon could reach 
it, and it fell to Jimmy’s lot to make the play. 
He handled the ball cleanly enough, but the throw 
had to be made like lightning, and it came to 
Hallahan a trifle wild, though it was a chance 
that the big first baseman would ordinarily have 
accepted with ease. But to the horror of the 
crowd, the ball slipped from his glove, and the 
Black Sox faced the critical situation of two men 
on, and no one out. 

Buck came striding down the path, his jaw set, 
and the old fighting light in his eyes. 

“ All right, boy,” he said comfortingly; 
“ ’twasn’t your fault. Now then, they’ll bunt 
again; it’s their only play. Put one over, and 
let Glendon handle it, if he can. The next man 


269 


The Battle for the Pennant 

you’ll have to strike out. Then the infield can 
play back, and we’ll be able to stop them. It 
isn’t such a bad hole as it looks; we’ll fool ’em 
yet.” 

The next play was carried out like a move on a 
chess board. Jimmy served one over the center 
of the plate; the batsman laid down the bunt, 
and Glendon easily threw him out at first, but 
in exchange for the sacrifice, there were now 
men on second and third, and Joe O’Connor, a 
three hundred hitter, at the bat. The crucial 
moment in the game had come. 

It was a time for the most delicate of figuring, 
and Buck, calculating that O’Connor would either 
try to hit it, or more probably, would seek to drive 
out a long fly, to enable the runner on third to 
score, signalled for two fast inshoots close to the 
inside of the plate. Jimmy sent both of them 
across, both were fouled off, and then once more 
the deadly drop was called into play, and after a 
mighty, but ineffectual lunge, O’Connor walked 
back to the bench, discomfited. 

The prospect now was infinitely brighter. 
Conway, the next man to bat, was a left-handed 
hitter, with a decided liking for placing them 
between first and second, and at Buck’s signal 
for an outcurve, Dorgan moved out a bit, and 


270 


Putting It Over 


Hallahan stood on his toes, ready to field the ball. 
Jimmy sent it in as ordered, and with a sharp 
crack, the ball sped straight for first base. On 
the instant, both runners on second and third had 
started, yet it was evident that the chance was an 
easy one, and the Black Sox supporters already 
felt certain that the run was cut off. But Halla¬ 
han, apparently losing his head, instead of making 
the play at first base, ran in on the Dali, and as if 
under the impression that there was only one man 
out, slammed it home. Even then, there was 
plenty of time to catch the runner, but the throw, 
besides being unnecessary, was so hurriedly exe¬ 
cuted that it sped wide of Buck’s outstretched 
glove, and before Glendon could recover it, it 
had rolled to the grandstand, and two runs had 
crossed the plate. The whole episode was one 
of those unexpected, kaleidoscopic shifts of base 
ball; one of the “ breaks ” of the game, and it had 
worked tremendously to the advantage of the 
Eagles. And though, in the midst of the excite¬ 
ment, Conway tried to make third, and was thrown 
out, Glendon to Warrener, still the mischief was 
done, and it was a sober crowd of Black Sox 
players that came filing in to the bench. 

Immediately, Maguire strode up to Hallahan. 

“ You big stiff,” he cried. “ Get out of that 


The Battle for the Pennant 271 

uniform, and get off of these grounds. You’ll 
never play another game for the Black Sox, if you 
live to be a thousand years old. You bonehead. 
Anyone would think you were trying to throw the 
game.” 

Hallahan bristled up. 

“ Better be careful what you say,” he snarled. 
“ If Jack had thrown straight on that bunt, it 
would have saved everything. It wasn’t my 
fault.” 

“ Oh no,” stormed Maguire, “ nothing is ever 
your fault. You damned quitter. You get out 
of here, quick, while your skin’s whole,” and 
Hallahan, grumbling and threatening, took his 
departure. 

Maguire turned to Hagan. 

“ You’ll play first, instead of that mutt,” he 
ordered; and then, to the rest of the team, col¬ 
lectively, “ Don’t you care, boys. You can lick 
’em. It was no one’s fault but Mike’s. He’s got 
a streak of yellow as broad as a boulevard. Get 
after this Wilson, now; he won’t last it out. 
We’ve got to tie ’em. Play for that one run.” 

But Wilson, in the last of the seventh, pitched 
wonderfully, and in the eighth, although the Black 
Sox had the advantage of having the top of the 
batting list up, no runs were scored by either team. 


272 


Putting It Over 


Then, in the first of the ninth, Jimmy, growing 
better and better as the game went on, struck out 
the side, and the last chance for the Sox had come. 

From grandstand and from bleachers, despite 
our vaunted American love of fair play, sounded 
one vast, deep-throated, inarticulate roar, so deaf¬ 
ening and overwhelming that it seemed as though 
it could not fail to unsettle Wilson’s nerves. But 
the Eagles’ pitcher did something seldom wit¬ 
nessed in big league ball, for as if to show his 
utter disregard for the multitude, he faced them 
for a moment, with arm hanging motionless at his 
side, and actually laughed; then, with an offhand 
gesture, waved at the grandstand, as if to say, as 
plainly as if in words, “ Enjoy yourselves, boys; 
it doesn’t bother me,” and since the crowd was 
quick to appreciate gameness, either in friend or 
foe, the tumult first lessened, and then ceased as 
rapidly as it had begun. 

And now it was no longer the top of the list that 
threatened, but Glendon, the first man up, and a 
dangerous batter in the pinches, hit the second 
ball pitched on a line straight over Wilson’s head. 
So quickly was the play executed that it was all 
over in the barest fraction of a second. Instan¬ 
taneously, the big pitcher leaped into the air, the 
ball struck his extended glove, stayed there, and 


The Battle for the Pennant 273 

in the twinkling of an eye, a seemingly sure hit 
had been converted into an out. One man was 
gone, and Maguire, on the bench, swore savagely 
at the evil luck that followed them. 

Yet it was becoming increasingly evident that 
Wilson, in spite of his coolness and his cunning, 
was rapidly tiring, for Warrener, waiting for a 
good one, sent it flying over short stop’s head, a 
perfect example of a “ Texas leaguer,” apparently 
so easy, but in reality so exasperatingly difficult to 
capture. But as the ball left the bat, the fleet- 
footed Skelton came tearing in from left field, 
attempting the seemingly impossible. Nearer 
and nearer he came to the ball; nearer and nearer 
came the ball to the ground. Already the crowd 
was shouting, “ A hit; a hit,” when just at the 
critical moment, the runner flung himself forward, 
with hands extended, and traveling with such 
momentum that, like an acrobat, he turned a 
complete somersault, and came up on his feet 
again, with the ball, incredibly enough, clutched 
firmly in his hands. He had made the catch of 
the year, and though it spelled disaster to the 
Black Sox, a roar of applause from the stands 
rewarded his brilliant and sensational play. 

Two men gone, yet not a single spectator moved 
from his seat as Buck Nelson, swinging his big 


274 


Putting It Over 


war club, came striding grimly to the bat. For 
hope was not yet dead in the Black Sox camp. 
Only one smile from Fate — one “ break ” in their 
favor — to send a run across the plate, and they 
were as confident as ever of victory. And now, 
indeed, it seemed as though their long streak of 
bad luck was really ended, for Buck, lettmg two 
bad ones go by, picked out the next one, and 
smashed it mightily against the left field fence. 
No chance this time for any miraculous capture 
of the ball, and while a fleeter runner might almost 
have stretched the hit to three bases, the big 
catcher pulled up safe at second, and there was 
needed only an outfield single to make the score a 
tie. 

It was a crisis in the strategy of the game. 
Would the manager send in a pinch hitter, or let 
Smith bat in his turn. It was a hard question, 
and Maguire himself, though usually quick to 
make up his mind, stood silent, as though unable 
to come to a decision. 

And now a curious thing happened to Jimmy, 
for suddenly, as if this were no question of a big 
league pennant, but merely some unimportant 
college game, the absolute conviction that he could 
make a hit possessed him. So that almost before 
he realized what he was doing, he had gone up to 


The Battle for the Pennant 275 

Maguire, and was saying, “ Don’t take me out, 
Mac; I can single; I know I can.” 

Whether it was the words, or the manner, or 
whether the manager had already determined 
to keep his pitcher in, no one could tell, but 
Maguire, looking at him for a moment, dryly 
answered, “Go ahead and do it, then,” and Jimmy, 
seizing his bat, ran quickly out to the plate. 

Still his feeling of confidence remained. This 
was no longer Ed Wilson, feared and dreaded 
throughout the league; it was merely the pitcher 
who was to deliver the ball which he was going to 
slam for a single. The first one came wide of the 
plate; so did the second; the third was over the 
plate, but not to Jimmy’s liking, and he let the 
strike be called. Then another strike, and an¬ 
other ball. Three and two; the heart breaking 
tension stilled the field. It seemed as though 
Wilson would never pitch. And in the interval, 
quick as lightning, Jimmy felt that he could 
actually read his opponent’s mind. In his own 
case, if he were pitching to a man whom he had 
“ beaned ” only a few days before, he knew very 
well what he would do. He would aim directly 
at his head, and deliver a swift outshoot, figuring 
that he would thus make him give ground, that 
the curve would cut the corner of the plate, and 


276 


Putting It Over 


that the umpire would have no choice but to call 
his victim out on strikes. 

Yet in reality he was the batsman, and the 
thought of a wrong guess, another blow upon the 
head, and a possible return to his other life, filled 
him with horror. Still, his business was to win the 
game, and banishing his fears, he waited reso¬ 
lutely, standing his ground, until at last Wilson 
drew back his arm and delivered the ball. It 
came as Jimmy had anticipated, broke precisely 
as he had imagined it would, and in that single 
instant of time, with all the force and strength at 
his command, he swung. 

Crack! There followed the sweet, clean sound 
of a perfect hit, as the ball went skimming over 
second base, out of harm’s way, as pretty a single 
as a man could make; and Jimmy, wild with 
exultation, tore away toward first, with the shouts 
of the crowd dinning in his ears. 

Never was a ball better placed, and only one 
thing marred its effectiveness, for it had been hit 
so sharply that it shortened the time which was 
given Buck to make home in safety. With a 
swifter runner, there would have been no question, 
but Buck, stocky and burly, had been built for 
many things — for a prize fighter, for a wrestler, 
for a weight thrower — but Nature had never 


The Battle for the Pennant 277 

molded his mighty limbs for those of a sprinter. 
One other chance, however, remained for making 
the run sure, and that was the slightest slip on 
the part of the centre fielder, a momentary fumble, 
a bad bound, a wild throw, anything to gain the 
merest fraction of time that would spell the 
difference between a pennant lost, or the score a 
tie. But no such disaster happened, and Jimmy, 
rounding first, saw O’Shea scoop the ball in fault¬ 
less style, and without the loss of an instant, 
“ peg ” it for home. It sped true, and on a line, 
as if on wings to overtake the laboring Buck, as 
he came tearing down the path, arms working like 
piston rods, face tense and drawn, struggling for 
the run with every ounce of power that was in 
him. 

At any less serious moment, indeed, there might 
have been something almost comic in such super¬ 
human exertions, but now no thought of humor 
occurred either to players or spectators in the 
drama. For here was the moment — the thrill — 
the tingling spine — that makes men go to ball 
games. Here was the toss of a coin whether the 
run would be scored or not. Flynn, the Eagles’ 
catcher, feet braced like a rock, saw with joy the 
perfection of the throw. 

“ I’ve got you,” he thought grimly to himself, 


278 


Putting It Over 


and then came the instant of impact; Buck’s 
desperate slide, the arrival of the ball, the crash 
as Nelson hurled his mighty bulk for the plate; 
and a cloud of dust that hid the play from sight. 

Jimmy, on first base, waited breathlessly. The 
umpire’s next motion would decide it all. If he 
spread both arms to the ground, Buck was safe; 
if he raised his right arm in air, it meant good by 
to everything. 

There was one palpitating second. Then, like 

✓ 

some evil nightmare, the umpire’s arm shot 
upwards, and in the absolute stillness was heard 
his crisp, “ You’re out.” 

And then the storm. Subconsciously, Jimmy 
saw it all; the Eagles rushing in from the field, 
their supporters leaping toward them from the 
stands; the Black Sox gathering around the 
umpire, Buck and Mac protesting the decision 
vehemently, but without avail. All of this he 
saw, and yet did not see, for the other part of his 
brain was realizing the loss of the game, and of the 
fortune. 

Cartwright, the Eagles’ first baseman, was by 
his side as they walked toward the plate. 

“ Close thing, kid,” he said. “ Damn close.” 

“ Jimmy nodded, and managed to assent, “ Yes, 
pretty close.” * 


The Battle for the Pennant 


279 


“ Wasn’t your fault,” continued Cartwright. 
“ Never saw a man pitch better ball.” 

“ Thanks,” said Jimmy. 

The crowd was almost on them now. 

“ All Hallahan’s fault,” said Cartwright again. 
“ Worst play I ever saw in my life. If it hadn’t 
been for that —” 

The crowd had him on their shoulders, and 
whirled him away. No one came to perform a 
similar office for Jimmv, and so bitter was the 
reaction, and since, after all, he was only a boy, 
it was perhaps no wonder that a sudden moisture 
dimmed his eyes. Yet the next moment, with a 
quick shake of his head, he was himself again. 

“ Anyway,” he reflected, “ I did my damned¬ 
est,” and very erect, and with a smile upon his 
lips, he strode over toward the Black Sox bench. 

And perhaps, at the sight, the shade of Ebenezer 
Blake may have clapped his bony hands, in spec¬ 
tral appreciation, for to win gracefully is one of the 
easiest things in the world, but a good loser is not 
always found. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE FINAL RECKONING 

Dorothy glanced at her watch. 

“ Do you realize/’ she observed, “ that it’s 
nearly half past eleven? We ought to start for 
Mr. Ellison’s at once.” 

But Jimmy, seated comfortably by her side, 
with his arm around her waist, did not betray the 
slightest enthusiasm. 

“ Oh, I suppose,” he unwillingly agreed, “ that 
we’ll have to go, and get it over with. But I’m 
not the least bit keen about it. It’s bad enough 
to have been a fool, but to go to Mr. Ellison, and 
tell him about it, and then watch Harold rake in 
the pot — oh well, it’s not my idea of fun; that’s 
all there is to that.” 

Dorothy laid a slender hand caressingly against 
his cheek. 

“ Of course it isn’t,” she sympathized, “ but 
we mustn’t complain, dear. We should be thank¬ 
ful for the happiness we have. I’m sorry about 
the money, for your sake, but really, for myself, 


The Final Reckoning 281 

I don’t mind at all. There is so much that we 
have left.” 

He kissed her rapturously. 

“ Of course,” he told her, “ nothing makes any 
difference, as long as I have you. And it isn’t 
the cash I care about; it’s the getting licked that 
hurts. And to lose a ball game, a pennant, and 
three million dollars, on the same afternoon, 
comes rather hard, especially as it was all that big 
Hallahan’s fault. I can’t see yet how he managed 
to do such a thing; a kid from the sand lots would 
have made the play.” 

“ It was terrible,” she agreed. “ The men 
around me could have lynched him, I’m sure.” 

But he scarcely heeded what she was saying. 

“ I suppose,” he went on gloomily, “ pious 
people would say that there was a moral to it. 
They’d call it a judgment on me for betting. I 
do hate preaching—” 

He broke off abruptly, and sat staring moodily 
at the floor. 

Dorothy hesitated for a moment; then rejoined, 
“ You’ll think I’m preaching, too, but honestly, 
dear, I think it has all happened for the best. 
There’s nothing else that I could wish to have 
changed about you, except your passion for gam¬ 
bling. I’m sure it’s a dangerous thing, and it 


282 


Putting It Over 


frightens me. And I really believe, if you had 
won the money, you would have gone on betting 
and speculating with it, all your life, or anyway, 
as long as it lasted. And I’d rather have my 
husband do anything else in the world than that.” 

Jimmy pondered. 

“ Well,” he at length admitted, “ I dare say 
you’re right. But you needn’t worry, Dorothy; 
I’ve had my lesson. I’ve got it, good and plenty, 
and I know when I’ve had enough. Never again, 
as long as I live, will I take a chance on anything. 
Stocks — horses — ball games — I’m through, and 
that settles it. No more sporting life for me.” 

She gave a sigh of contentment. 

“ I’m so glad to hear you say so,” she answered, 
“ because now there’s nothing that can ever spoil 
our happiness. Only,” she added, “ you know 
what frightful things habits are. Won’t you find 
it awfully hard, at first.” 

But Jimmy became indignant at this aspersion 
on his will power. 

“ Hard? Not a bit of it,” he stoutly main¬ 
tained. “ It will be a cinch. Nothing to it at 
all. Why, look here, Dorothy, I’ll just bet you a 
quarter —” 

At her ringing laugh, he stared; then stopped, 
crestfallen. 


The Final Reckoning 283 

“ But that wasn’t fair/’ he excused himself. 
“ That was only a slip. I can do it, all right. 
You watch me.” 

“ I know you can, dear,” she assured him, “ but 
now we really must go. I wouldn’t be late, for 
anything. Mr. Ellison is a very nice man, and 
we must show him proper respect, even if it isn’t 
much fun for us.” 

Jimmy reluctantly disengaged his arm, and rose 
slowly to his feet. 

“ Yes, that’s so,” he assented heartily. “ I’m 
getting selfish. I ought to have thought more 
about the old chap. He’s been a brick, all through, 
even if he did decide against me on the three thou¬ 
sand. And I guess he was right about it, at that.” 

As it turned out, they had started none too 
soon, for a block in the subway delayed them, and 
the clocks in the square were striking the hour as 
they were ushered into Mr. Ellison’s private office. 
The punctual Harold was already awaiting them 
and their greetings were over just as the last stroke 
of twelve died away upon the air. 

Mr. Ellison, before beginning to speak, leaned 
back for a moment in his chair, and sat gazing in 
silence at the two young men before him. Surely, 
he reflected, they had changed greatly since the 
first time he had seen them. Jimmy, to be sure, 


284 


Putting It Over 


looked bronzed and muscular, but his face had a 
careworn expression, and he seemed infinitely older 
than the volatile youth who had visited the office, 
three months before, while the difference in Harold 
was even more plainly marked. He was actually 
hollow cheeked, and the somewhat smug and self- 
satisfied air which he had formerly displayed had 
now entirely disappeared. Whether for good or 
ill, the contest had aged them both, and the 
lawyer felt that he was now addressing himself, 
not to boys, but to men. 

“ The three months mentioned in your uncle’s 
will,” he told them, “ has now officially expired. 
And since the competition is over, it remains for 
me to receive your accounting, and then to an¬ 
nounce my decision. Perhaps, as Mr. James 
Blake is accompanied by his fiancee, we may 
properly ask him to speak first.” 

Jimmy produced a slip of paper from his pocket, 
and using it for reference, proceeded, with small 
relish for his task, to make his confession. 

“ There is one good thing about my report,” 
he observed, “ and that is, it won’t take long. I 
began by betting one hundred dollars on a ball 
game, and winning. Then I made forty dollars 
more, playing auction. After which, I became 
convinced that it was impossible for me to lose. 


The Final Reckoning 285 

So the next day I bet two hundred dollars on a 
steeplechase, two hundred more on another ball 
game, and invested still a third two hundred in the 
stock market. 7 ’ 

He paused for an instant as the memory of that 
day came back to him; then, with a humorous 
lift of his eyebrows, continued, “ My theory that 
I couldn’t lose turned out to be a mistake, and I 
dropped the whole six hundred, which put me, of 
course, four hundred and sixty dollars to the bad. 
After that, owing to some rather peculiar circum¬ 
stances, I made no more ventures until yesterday, 
when I bet nine thousand dollars on the Black Sox 
to win. They lost. I have had but one other 
asset, namely, the interest on the nine thousand 
dollars while it was in the bank, so that of the 
original ten thousand, there remains just about six 
hundred dollars,” and with the words, he handed 
a check to Mr. Ellison. 

The lawyer’s face betrayed no emotion whatso¬ 
ever. He took the check, pencilled a memoran¬ 
dum on a sheet of paper, and was about to proceed 
with his examination when Harold suddenly 
asked, “ I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask my 
cousin a question? ” 

“ Certainly,” the lawyer answered, and Harold 
turned to Jimmy. 


286 


Putting It Over 


“I understood,” he remarked,"on what appeared 
to me to be good authority, that all through the 
summer months you were making a practice of 
betting on the ball games, and that you were for¬ 
tunate enough to win three thousand dollars. 
I should like to ask whether or not that- is true.” 

Jimmy hesitated, glanced at Mr. Ellison, and in 
his turn queried, “ Is there any objection, sir, to 
my answering? ” 

“ Not the slightest,” the lawyer rejoined, and 
Jimmy turned to Harold. 

“ Fm very glad to tell you about it,” he said, 
“ because it will explain some other matters which 
must have puzzled you. Shortly after we began 
our contest, I went behind the scenes at a theatre. 
There was a row; I got knocked in the head; and 
I didn’t know what I was about until four days 
ago. I did make the money you speak of, but 
Mr. Ellison decided that under the circumstances 
I had no right to consider it as mine. Does that 
make everything clear? ” 

Harold did not reply. His expression was that 
of a man who is absolutely dumbfounded. 

“ Good God! ” he murmured, under his breath, 
and sat in silence, until Mr. Ellison prompted, 
“ And now, if there are no further questions, we 
are ready to hear from Mr. Harold Blake.” 


The Final Reckoning 


287 


Harold, however, seemed curiously unwilling 
to begin. But at length he drew a deep breath, 
and as if eager to complete his task as soon as 
possible, burst forth vehemently, “ Very well then; 
here's my report. I invested my money in a four 
per cent, bond, and I let it remain there until 
yesterday." 

He stopped abruptly; repeated, as if half dazed, 
“ Until yesterday," and then continued, “I think 
I must have been mad. I can’t see how I could 
have done what I did. But I heard that my cousin 
had been making a great deal of money — how 
much, I had no means of knowing — and I 
felt certain, that as matters stood, I was sure to 
be defeated. Therefore, although it was contrary 
to all my principles, I believed that I was justified 
in taking a desperate chance; and since there was 
nothing at hand excepting this ball game, which 
every one was talking about, I obtained the best 
information I could regarding it, and finally 
wagered everything I possessed that the Black Sox 
would win. I repeat, I’ve been mad — insane — 
but that is my report. I’ve nothing to return 
to you, sir; I’ve lost every cent." 

He sat looking straight before him, haggard, 
worn and miserable; then, all at once, he dropped 
his face in his hands. There was absolute 


288 


Putting It Over 


silence in the office, until finally Mr. Ellison spoke. 

“ Officially, then,” he said, “ I declare Mr. 
James Blake to be the winner. As referee, that 
brings my duties to an end. But as a private 
individual, who has been keenly interested in this 
curious contest, I wish to add a word. I was 
afraid, from the very first, that the affair would 
not turn out well, and the outcome, regarded as a 
test of financial shrewdness, has fully justified my 
fears. Yet I must say this, in justice to you both. 
You are both young, and while your judgment has 
not seemed to be of the best, still you have behaved 
with absolute honesty toward me, and toward 
each other, and that, after all, is the greater test, 
for money, as you will increasingly realize, as you 
grow older, is very far from being the most im¬ 
portant thing in the world.” 

He rose, as he finished speaking, and advancing, 
took Jimmy’s hand. 

“ I congratulate you,” he said. “ I trust that 
you will deal wisely with your fortune. It is a 
large sum. If I may ever, in any way, be of 
service to you, pray command me.” 

Harold, too, had risen to his feet, and now came 
forward in his turn. He had regained control of 
himself, and he put forth his hand, in downright 
manly fashion. 


The Final Reckoning 


289 


“ Jimmy/’ he said, “ accept my congratula¬ 
tions also. It hasn’t been the kind of a competition 
we anticipated, and Fate seems to have played 
quite a part in it. But as Mr. Ellison says, it’s 
surely been on the square, and I guess that’s the 
main thing, after all. I wish Miss Lawrence and 
yourself all the luck in the world.” 

Jimmy took his hand without speaking. Then, 
turning to Mr. Ellison, he asked, “ Will you excuse 
me, sir. I wish to say a word to Dorothy, alone.” 

Over by the window, they talked rapidly for a 
moment; then, returning, Jimmy addressed them 
both with all the earnestness at his command. 

“ Mr. Ellison, and Harold,” he began, “ I 
don’t know, when our uncle made this will, what 
he had in his mind. Whether he meant it simply 
as a sporting proposition, or whether he meant it 
to teach us something. But as a matter of fact, 
it’s been a moral lesson, with a vengeance. When 
we started, three months ago, all I thought about 
was beating Harold, and getting the coin; and I 
dare say he felt toward me just as I felt toward 
him. Now that it’s all over, I can see, as Mr. 
Ellison says, that the money doesn’t count for 
such a lot, after all. But a man’s character does 
count, and that’s what I’m coming at now. You, 
Mr. Ellison, have set us a bully example of hon- 


290 


Putting It Over 


esty, and of kindness, and of fair dealing. And 
you, Harold, told a lie out of regard for Dorothy, 
that probably meant everything in the world to 
me. That is what I was saying to her, just now. 
So I’m going to make you both a proposition. I 
can’t put all that I mean into words, because 
I haven’t either the ability, or the eloquence, but 
you will understand what I mean. Harold, I 
want you to take one third of the money, to have 
for your own, and I want you, Mr. Ellison, to take 
the second million. The third, I’ll keep for 
Dorothy and myself. And I believe Uncle 
Ebenezer would call that a fair deal, all around.” 

He gazed at them expectantly, but Harold shook 
his head. 

“ You’re mighty good, Jimmy,” he answered, 
“ but of course — ” 

Jimmy cut him short. 

“ Mr. Ellison,” he begged, 11 will you kindly 
set the example? ” 

“ Why, I hardly suppose—” the lawyer re¬ 
joined. 

Again Jimmy interrupted. 

“ Oh, what good are you? ” he cried. “ Here 
I try to explain, and you don’t even get me. It 
isn’t a question of money. Damn the money. 
It’s a question of friendship. You, Mr. Ellison, 


The Final Reckoning 


291 


were my uncle’s friend; you may not want the 
money yourself, but you’re a man of affairs, 
and interested in lots of worthy objects. You 
can use the money more wisely than I ever could. 
Harold, you and I are the last of the Blakes. 
Up to the present time, we’ve never understood 
each other, and so we’ve never hit it off very well. 
But blood is thicker than water, and from now on 
we’ll stand by each other, and that’s all there is to 
that. No argument, now, because I’m the most 
muscular man here, and if you refuse again, I’ll 
lick you both. So what do you say to that? ” 

The lawyer had listened attentively, and now it 
seemed as though he, at least, understood all that 
Jimmy meant, and was striving so hard to put 
into words, for he gravely nodded his head. 

“ With a full appreciation,” he said, “ of all that 
your offer means, I accept it.” 

Jimmy turned to Harold. 

“ And you, Hal? ” he asked. 

It was evident that a struggle was going on in 
Harold’s mind, but he too had grasped the spirit 
that underlay Jimmy’s speech, and since he did so, 
“I’m more grateful than I can say, Jimmy,” he 
responded, “ and I also accept.” 

“ Good for both of you,” cried Jimmy. “ That 
settles everything, then, and everyone is happy. 


292 


Putting It Over 


Only / 7 he added, as he took Dorothy’s hand in 
his, “ I can’t allow anybody else in the world to be 
quite as happy as I am, because they haven’t the 
right to be.” 

And Mr. Ellison, regarding them, felt fifty years 
slip from his shoulders, and in retrospect saw him¬ 
self again, at Jimmy’s age, with all his life before 
him, and with the girl whom he had loved standing 
by his side. He saw, too, the quiet grave among 
the New Hampshire hills, and the coming and 
going of the lonely, wifeless, childless years. So 
that his voice was none too steady as he took 
Jimmy’s hand in one of his, and laid the other on 
Dorothy’s shoulder. 

“ It’s a good wwld,” he said. “ In spite of the 
pessimists, it’s a good and a beautiful world. 
And of the many wonderful things it has in store 
for us, you have found the most wonderful of all, 
the one which will endure as long as life itself. 
I wish you both every joy.” 










* 










JUN 2? 1923 














































































































